THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 

GIFT  OF 

David  L.  Wilt 


MY    LADY    PEGGY 
GOES    TO    TOWN 

By 
FRANCES    AYMAR    MATHEWS 

ILLUSTRATED     BY     HARRISON    FISHER 


GROSSET      &      DUNLAP 
PUBLISHERS   :    NEW    YORK 


Copyright,  1901, 

By  The  Bowen-Merrill  Company 


MY 

LADY  PEGGY 

GOES  TO 

TOWN 


THE  DECORATIONS  DESIGNED  BY  VIRGINIA  KEEP 
THE  COVER  DESIGNED  BY  FRANCIS  HAZENTLUG 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


Then  Lady  Peggy,  laughing,  humming 
such  a  gay  snatch  of  a  song,  comes 
tripping  down  the  stairs.  Frontispiece 

And  Lady  Peggy  and  her  woman  found 

themselves  on  the  road  to  town.  Page     40 

"A  touch,  a  hit!"  cry  all  at  once  as  a 
spurt  of  blood  darts  up  the  supposed 
Sir  Robin's  blade.  Page  68 

Tim  watched  her  as  she  came  in  on  Beau 

]iru)iiweH's  arm.  Page  1J2 


At  the  table  sat  Kennaston,  inky  -fin 
gered,  scribbling;  eyes  now  rolling  to 
the  ceiling,  now  roving  hither  and 
yon.  Page  J')S 


The  instant  that  Lady  Peggy  felt  her 
self  in  the  highwayman  s  saddle,  she 
knew  that  her  wrists  had  met  their 
match.  Page  186< 

"I  am  Sir  Robin  McTart!     Who,   the 

devil,  are  you?"  Page  218 


"Ah,  Peggy,  my  adored  one,"  says  he, 
devouring  her  pale  face  with  his  happy 
eyes.  Page  336 


ENVOI 

When  gay  postillions  cracked  their  whips, 
And  gallants  gemmed  their  chat  with  quips ; 
When  patches  nestled  o'er  sweet  lips 
At  choc'late  times ;  and,  'twixt  the  sips, 
Fair  Ladies  gave  their  gossips  tips ; 
Then,  in  Levantine  gown  and  brooch, 
My  Lady  Peggy  took  the  coach, 
For  London  Town! 


LADY  PEGGY 


In  the  which  My  Lady  Peggy  sends  off  her 

lover  broken-hearted  and  promptly 

falls  into  a  swoon. 


Kennaston  Castle  lies  in  Surrey.  The  Earl  of 
Exham  is  master  of  the  picturesque  old  pile  and 
of  the  estate,  and  decidedly  the  slave  of  the  very 
considerable  number  of  debts  which  were  up  to 
His  Lordship's  ears  when  he  came  of  age,  some 
four  and  fifty  years  ago,  and  by  this  time  have 
reached  almost  to  the  crown  of  his  head.  He  is 
also  father  to  his  son  and  heir,  Kennaston  of  Ken 
naston,  and  to  the  heir's  tall  twin,  My  Lady  Peggy. 

1 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

My  Lady  Peggy  at  this  particular  moment  sits 
a-swinging  on  the  top  branch  of  a  plum  tree  at  the 
foot  of  the  kitchen  garden  whence  she  commands 
a  tolerable  view  of  the  highway. 

"Impertinent  sun!"  cries  Peggy,  shading  her 
handsome  eyes  with  her  hand  as  she  stares  off  along 
the  dusty  road.  "How  is't  you  dare  shine  when 
there's  no  fine  gentleman  a-comin'  from  the  east; 
no  gallant  with  disheveled  locks,  powdered  shoul 
ders,  disordered  mien,  distracted  looks,  spurs  a-dig- 
ging  into  his  beast,  lips  apart,  heart  beating  like 
spent  rabbit's,  and  'Peggy,  lovely  Peggy,'  the  clap 
per  to  his  eager  tongue  at  every  jolt  of  his  saddle, 
every  rut  of  his  way?  Go  cloud  yourself,  I  say! 
since  Sir  Percy  tarries.  I'd  have  the  skies  weep, 
even  if  I  can't."  A  peal  of  merriest  laughter  con 
cludes  this  sally,  and  an  apronful  of  plums  comes 
tumbling  down  all  over  the  other  young  woman 
.who  stands  under  the  tree  in  waiting  on  her  mis- 
;tress. 

"Is  His  Lordship  not  yet  in  sight,  My  Lady-?" 
asks  this  one. 

"Nay !  that  is  not  he,  Chockey,  and  whisk  me ! 
but  when  His  Lordship  does  come,  he'll  find  a  very 

9 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

sorry  entertainment.  I  swear,  as  dad  says,  I'll  not 
see  him  when  he  does  appear,  that  will  not  I.  Nay, 
shake  not  your  head,  girl.  Is't  not  true  that  Lady 
Peggy  had  once  a  lover?" 

"  'Twere  truer  say  a  dozen  of  that  sort  of  gentry, 
Madam,"  replies  the  buxom  Chockey,  as  she  sorts 
the  plums,  the  best  in  her  bonnet,  the  flaws  over 
the  wall  where  the  chickens  and  hens  cackle  to  the 
refuse. 

"Well,  well,  twenty  if  you  like!  but  one  more 
favored  than  the  rest?  the  properest  sort  of 
man  at  saddle,  gun,  line,  wrestle,  toast,  song,  or 
dance?  honest,  straightforward,  beautiful,  as  dad 
says  the  angels  are  he  saw  painted  on  the  walls  at 
Rome.  Speak  I  truth,  eh,  Chockey  ?" 

"Madam,  that  you  do." 

"And  this  paragon  so  worshiped  his  Peggy  as, 
when  she  went  off  a-three  months  since  to  visit  her 
godmother  in  Kent,  he  vowed  by  all  the  saints  in 
the  calendar  he'd  scarce  survive  until  her  return. 
False  or  true,  eh,  Chockey  ?" 

My  Lady  Peggy  punctuated  this  query  by  an 
accurate  aim  and  hit,  on  the  top  of  her  waiting 
woman's  head,  with  an  especially  large  plum. 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

"True,  Madam,"  dodging  the  fruit,  and  still 
with  an  eye  on  the  road. 

"And  then,  back  comes  My  Lady  Peggy,  cutting 
short  her  stay  in  Kent,  where  she  had  much  pleas 
ure,  to  tell  the  truth,  in  the  society  of  a  very  fine 
young  nobleman." 

"Lawk,  Madam!  another?"  interrupted  the 
faithful  Chockey. 

"Another,  Chock,"  vouchsafes  her  mistress. 
"Sweet,  sweet  Sir  Eobin  McTart !" 

"Oh,  My  Lady !"  cries  the  girl,  vainly  endeavor 
ing  to  conceal  a  smile. 

"Aye,  Chock,"  proceeds  Peggy,  "I  say  again,  a 
sweet  and  most  entrapping  young  man." 

"Madam,  a  squint  eye,  a  wry  nose,  an  underlip 
that  hangs,  a  pair  of  fox-teeth,  and  a  chin  that's 
gone  a-huntin'  for  his  throat !" 

"Tut,  tut !  Chock,"  laughs  Lady  Peggy,  leaning 
back  in  her  leafy  bower,  "what's  all  that  to  a 
nimble  wit,  a  galloping  conversation,  and  a  faith 
ful  heart?"  Lady  Peggy's  tone  is  as  light  as  the 
May  breeze  blowing  her  soft  locks  about  her  lovely 
blooming  face,  full  of  mockery,  witchery, — and 
then  a  bit  of  a  sigh,  low  as  flowers'  whispers,  and 
4 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

up  with  her  drooped  head  higher  than  before,  as  in 
the  half  mannish  tone  her  twinship  and  long  play- 
fellowship  with  her  brother  have  given  her,  she 
adds  curtly — 

"D'ye  see  aught  coming  yet,  Chock?" 

"No,  My  Lady,  not  yet,"  answers  the  girl  rue 
fully. 

Peggy  bites  her  lips  until  they  hurt. 

"As  I  was  a-sayin',  Chock,  your  mistress  cuts 
short  her  visit,  sends  word  to  her  lover  she'll  be 
home  o'-Thursday,  and,  as  I  live !  to-day's  the  Mon 
day  after,  and  him  still  on  the  way !  See  him !" 
Peggy's  white  teeth  close  tight,  and  her  eyes  flash, 
and  her  little  hands  clench.  "Not  I!  Let  him 
come  now  an'  he  goes  again  faster  than  he  ever 
traveled.  The  vain  coxcomb !  the  deceitful,  cozen 
ing,  graceless  poppet !  He'll  ne'er  set  eyes  on  her 
he  used  to  call  his  Peg  again,  or  I  die  fort."  And 
Peggy  jumped  to  the  ground. 

"Madam !  Madam !"  exclaims  Chockey,  pointing 
joyfully  to  a  cloud  of  dust  far  up  the  highway. 
"Look !  Yonder  conies  Sir  Percy !  Don't  I  know  ? 
Ain't  I  watched  his  long  roan  any  day  this  twelve 
month  a-turnin'  by  the  lodge  ?" 

5 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

Lady  Peggy  seizes  Chcckey's  arm,  and  runs 
breathless  to  the  house;  in,  a-scrambling  up  the 
broad  stairs  to  her  chamber ;  a-pulling  out  of  draw 
ers  from  their  chests;  a-himting  of  ribbons  and 
fallals,  combs,  brushes,  kerchiefs,  perfumes, 
patches,  powder,  whatever  else  besides ! 

"Hurry,  Chock,  do  my  hair  as  he  likes  it !"  urges 
Lady  Peggy. 

"Lawk,  Madam !  I  thought  you  swore  just  now 
you'd  never  set  eyes  on  Sir  Percy  again  ?" 

"You  thought !  Bless  you,  Chock,  never  be  a- 
wastin'  your  time  a-thinking  where  a  woman's  con 
cerned.  When  her  heart  steps  up  and  lays  hold  the 
reins,  the  steed  gallops  to  the  goal;  she's  always 
time  to  think  after  she's  acted." 

"Yes,  Madam,"  concurs  Choc-key,  with  a  mental 
reservation  back  of  her  mouthful  of  pins.  "There, 
My  Lady,  Your  Ladyship's  hair  is  lovely;  your 
Levantine  gown  becomes  you  like  a  pheasant  do  its 
plumage,  and  your  eyes  is  a-shinin'  with  love 
and—" 

"Tut,  girl!  It's  anger,  wrath,  temper, — so!" 
Peggy  marches  up  and  down  before  the  mirror, 
.tossing  her  lovely  head.  "Thus  attired,  Chock,  a 
6 


lady  can  flout,  deride,  harass,  and  madden  one  of 
the  opposite  sex,  as  can  she  not  do  in  cotton  frock 
and  fruit-  stained  apron.  Give  me  my  comfit  box, 
I  pray.  Tell  me  how  long  Sir  Percy  now  hath 
been  cooling  his  heels  in  the  drawing-room  ?" 

"But  little  lacking  the  hour,  Madam." 

"Good!  I'd  keep  him  there  until  Thursday,  an 
I  could.  Now  go  tell  him  I'll  be  with  him  pres 
ently." 

Chockey  went. 

Lady  Peggy  stood  at  the  door  ajar;  she  heard 
the  impatient  footsteps  of  her  lover  below,  but  yet 
she  tarried,  tapping  her  high  red  heel  on  the  sill. 

"Lud!"  cried  she,  "an  I  show  no  proper  spirit, 
Percy's  uncle'll  have  the  right  of  it  when  he  says 
of  one  he's  never  seen  yet,  'She's  a-hunting  your 
bank-notes,  boy !  She's  heiress  to  debts,  Sir,  and  by 
my  life,  Sir!  I'll  never  father-in-law  her,  so  long 
as  I'm  above  the  sod,  Sir !'  Despicable  old  wretch ! 
as  if  'twere  not  Percy  I  adored,  without  a  care  if 
he  have  a  farthing  to  his  fortune,  or  a  roof  to  his 
head !" 

And   then   Chockey,   her  palm   warm   with   * 
sovereign,  came  with  a  rush. 
7 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

"My  Lady!"  cries  she,  "'f  you  could  see  Sir 
Percy !  White  as  milk,  tremblin',  shakin',  chatter- 
in',  a-begging  and  a-praying  as  you'll  condescend 
to  go  to  him  inside  of  another  hour !" 

"White,  said  you  Chock?" 

The  girl  nods  vehemently. 

"Shaking?" 

"Aye,  Madam." 

"Like  to  faint,  think  you?" 

"Like  to  die,  My  Lady!" 

Then  Lady  Peggy,  laughing,  humming  such  a 
gay  snatch  of  a  song,  comes  tripping  down  the 
stairs,  pulling  out  her  petticoats,  stopping  her 
lover's  outstretched  arms  of  eagerness  with  such  a 
splendid  curtsy  as  any  Court  lady  might  have 
envied. 

Still  laughing.— "Lud !  Sir  Percy!  is't  you?" 
amazed. 

"Aye!"  returns  he,  more  amazed  than  she,  and 
standing  off  with  dropped  arms.  "Whom  did  you 
think  it  was?" 

"Another.  My  woman's  stupid,  and  when  she 
described  the  gallant  that  she  did,  it  matched  a 
different  sort  of  him  than  you,  methinks.  How- 
8 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

ever,  let's  be  civil;  the  crops  are  good,  the  game 
likely  to  be,  later;  the  King  in  health, — prithee 
have  a  chair."  And  Peggy  swept  a  second  curtsy, 
motioning  toward  a  seat. 

"Peggy !  Sweet  lips !  Joy  of  my  soul,  what's  it  ? 
Not  one  warm  word  for  him  who  only  lives  for 
thee?  Who's  counted  every  hour  since  he  parted 
from  you,  eh  ?"  The  young  man  draws  nearer  to 
her,  and  bends  upon  his  knee,  venturing,  as  he  does 
so,  to  take  her  hand  in  his. 

"Since  you  spent  your  time  a-counting  the  hours, 
Sir,  pray  you,  how  many  hours  have  passed  since 
in  this  same  room  we  parted,  now  three  months, 
three  weeks,  and  a  few  days  since  ?" 

Sir  Percy  sprang  to  his  feet. 

"Zounds !  Peggy,  and  you  flout  me  so  ?" 

"Zounds!  Sir  Percy,  did  not  I  write  you — and 
very  well  you  know  writing's  not  my  forte, — that 
I'd  be  home  o'-Thursday  ?" 

"Aye,  but  I  never  got  it  until  this  morning ;  then 
did  I  put  spurs  and  leave  my  uncle  in  the  lurch 
to  fly  to  you." 

"What,  Sir !  not  get  my  letter  ?  An  idle,  silly, 
and  foolish  excuse.  I  sent  it  by  Bickers,  and  trust- 

9 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

ier  man  ne'er  breathed.  He  vowed  me  he'd  put  it 
in  your  hands." 

"Peggy,  believe  whichever  of  the  two  you  like ; 
but,  in  mercy  tell  me!  What  kept  you  so  long 
away?  I've  heard  rumors  of  another.  Eh,  Peg, 
'tis  not  true,  swear  me  'tis  not  true?  Oh,  by  the 
hue  of  my  visage  must  you  know  what  jealous 
pangs  have  racked  me!" 

Lady  Peggy  nods  her  head  maliciously. 

"Jealous  pangs,  forsooth !  and  you  thought  to 
medicine  them,  I  dare  be  sworn,  with  vaulting  the 
country  over  in  the  wake  of  Lady  Diana  Weston, 
the  greatest  heiress  in  the  market !  Bah,  Sir,  and 
you've  heard  rumors!  I'll  match  'em.  I've  seen 
the  minx  from  afar.  She  is  handsome,  Sir;  your 
taste  does  you  credit." 

"Peg,  I  swear  'twas  but  to  please  my  uncle!" 
cries  Sir  Percy. 

"Aye,  and  so  displease  me !" 

"Nay,  you  know  too  well  that  I'll  never  do  that 
of  my  will ;  but  my  uncle,  as  I've  told  you,  must 
be  coaxed,  and  then  when  once  I  gain  his  consent 
to  seeing  you,  our  battle's  won.  To  see  thee,  Peg 


10 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

's  to  worship  thee !  Lord  Gower'll  kneel  when  he- 
beholds  thee !" 

"Our  me  no  ours,  Sir !"  returned  Peggy.  "Let's 
here  and  now  make  an  end  on't  all.  You  go  pound 
the  roads  after  your  new  mistress  with  her  acres 
and  notes,  and  I — " 

"Well,  you  what  ?"  asks  the  young  man  impetu 
ously  and  yet  with  a  certain  grave  dignity. 

"Oh,  I'll  acquit  myself  to  a  certainty  with  one 
that's  faithful  as  the  sun,  and  gallant  from  his 
head  to  his  heels." 

"What's  his  name  ?"  inquires  Sir  Percy  in  a  hard, 
strained  voice.  "If  he's  a  better  man,  Peg,  and  you 
can  say  you  love  him — God  keep  me !" 

"His  name's  a  very  honorable  and  ancient  one, 
he's  Sir  Robin  McTart,  twenty-third  Baronet !" 

"Peggy!" 

If  a  thunderbolt  had  fallen  betwixt  Peggy's  red 
shoes  and  his  brown  ones,  Percy  could  not  have 
been  more  astounded. 

"Well,  Sir  ?"  returns  she,  scarce  controlling  the 
twitching  of  her  lips. 

"A  milk-sop,  molly-coddle !  Oh  Peggy,  an  you 
drop  me,  take  a  better  man !  Peg,  you're  a-joking. 
11 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

Not  that  bumpkin !  I've  never  seen  him,  but  re 
port  has  it  he's  afeard  if  one  of  his  own  dogs  looks 
him  in  the  eye  and  bays !" 

"Sir  Percy,  have  you  finished?"  inquires  Peggy 
with  dignity. 

"No,  have  I  not!  By  my  soul,  Peg,  an  you 
pitch  me  to  hell  for  that  jackanapes,  I'll  go  to  hell 
as  fast  as  wine  and  dice,  and  cards  and  brawls,  and 
usurers,  and  all  that  sort  of  crew  can  carry  me! 
I'll  up  to  London,  and  one  morning  when  your 
brother  sends  you  word  he's  found  me  with  a  rapier 
stuck  in  my  throat,  my  pockets  empty,  and  Teggy' 
writ  on  the  scrap  o'  paper  a-lying  over  my  heart, 
then  you'll  believe  Percy  loved  you !" 

"Lud,  Sir!  Men  are  apt  at  such  chatter,  and  a 
fortnight  after,  the  vicar's  a-publishing  their  banns 
with  the  other  lady !" 

"Peg !"  He  takes  her  kerchief  end,  as  it  droops 
away  from  her  pretty  long  throat,  in  his  fingers; 
he  looks  down  deep  into  her  eyes ;  his  voice  shakes, 
so  does  his  hand. 

"Whatever  betides,  my  bonny  sweetheart,  there's 
only  one  that'll  ever  have  banns  read  with  me,  and 
that's — "  He  takes  her  by  surprise  and  by  the 
12 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

shoulders,  and  squares  her  to  the  mirror  in  its 
niche. 

"Farewell,  Peg — since  you  send  me,  it's  the  devil 
and  dice,  for  by  the  Lord !  I  can't  live  a  quiet  life 
lacking  your  smiles." 

In  two  minutes  more  Chockey,  from  the  upper 
window,  saw  the  long  roan  flying  away  from  Ken- 
naston  faster  than  she  ever  galloped  to  it;  and 
went  down  to  find  her  young  mistress  a-lying  prone 
in  a  fine  wrinkled  heap  of  silken  gown,  lace  frills 
and  furbelows,  on  the  threadbare  carpet  of  the  big 
drawing-room. 

To  rush  across  the  wide  hall  to  the  dining-room, 
seize  a  game-knife,  back  again ;  cut  her  mistress's 
stays;  pour  a  glass  of  cider  down  Lady  Peggy's 
throat,  willy-nilly;  clap  her  palms;  pound  her 
back ;  set  her  on  her  feet ;  and  half  carry  her  to  her 
chamber,  occupied  not  many  minutes  for  stout 
Chockey. 

"Lawk,  My  Lady,"  said  she,  surveying  the  pros 
trate  form  on  the  couch,  arms  a-kimbo,  eyes  saucer- 
wide,  "who'd  ever  have  thought  to  see  your  haughty 
Ladyship  so  mauled  for  the  sake  of  any  gentleman 
as  lives  \" 

13 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

Lady  Peggy  lay  still,  but  presently,  from  the 
depths  of  the  pillows  she  spoke. 

"I  ain't  mauled,  Chock,  not  I !"  Her  Ladyship 
now  sat  up  and  stared  around  the  hig  room.  "If  s 
only  for  sorrow  for  havin'  had  to  disappoint  Sir 
Percy,  on  account  of  dear  Sir  Eobin." 

"Oh !"  ejaculates  the  worthy  Chockey  in  a  tone 
of  undisguised  and  sarcastic  disbelief. 

"Chockey!"  exclaimed  her  mistress  in  the  tone 
of  a  drill  sergeant,  now  rising  to  her  feet. 

"Lawk !  My  Lady,  I  didn't  mean  nothin'." 

"Chockey,"  echoes  Lady  Peggy  faintly,  sinking 
to  her  knees,  "whatever*!!  I  do  ?  Oh  Chock !  Chock ! 
and  Sir  Percy  just  the  centre  of  my  heart,  and  me 
to  behave  to  him  like  a  brute !  Out  of  my  sight, 
away  with  you !  There's  the  first  bell  a-ringin'  for 
dinner.  Say  to  daddy  I'm  too  deep  in  my  hand- 
writin'  lessons  to  eat  to-day !  Say  to  him  I'm  gone 
out  to  break  the  new  colt  and  not  got  back.  Say 
to  him  I'm  gone  to  the  devil !" 

And  Lady  Peggy  fell  a-weeping  with  such  vio 
lence  as  Chockey  had  never  seen ;  and,  being  a 
wise  damsel,  she  left  her  mistress  alone  and  went 


14 


GOES      TO       TOWN 

down  to  soothe  the  gouty  Earl,  tied  to  his  chair, 
as  best  she  could  for  the  absence  of  his  daughter 
Peg  from  dinner. 


II 


In  the  which  Her  Ladyship  wheedles  her 
noble  father  and  makes  up  her  mind. 

The  Earl  forsooth  was  a  testy  gentleman,  and 
his  girl  was  his  plague  and  his  pride;  on  her. 
rather  than  on  his  heir,  the  old  man's  fancy  was 
set,  for  the  reason  that  Kennaston,  disclaiming 
all  the  country  sports,  the  half  wild  outdoor  life, 
the  lusty  joys  and  racing  bumps  and  cups  that  had 
been  vastly  helpful  in  reducing  the  little  his  parent 
had  started  his  career  with,  had  elected  instead  to 
try  his  luck  at  that  most  inscrutable,  vile  trade  of 
ecribbling ! 

Peg's  twin,  her  fellow  in  height  and  build,  which 
made  a  slender  youth  of  him  indeed,  had  gone  up 
to  London  quill-armed,  ink-fingered,  brain-pos- 
16 


sessed  with  rhymes;  empty-pursed,  determined  to 
carve  with  such  unlikely  weapons  as  that  apt  bird, 
the  goose,  furnishes,  a  fame  and  fortune  for  him 
self,  that  should  dazzle  the  world  and  recoup  the 
fortunes  of  his  well-nigh  fallen  house. 

While  the  Earl  jeered,  Peg,  herself  scarce  able 
to  spell  a  two-syllabled  word,  looked  up  to  her 
brother  as  nothing  short  of  whatever  stood  in  her 
mind  for  Shakespeare;  for,  low  be  it  spoke,  the 
fair  Peggy  had  small  notion  of  books,  their  makers 
or  their  pleasurable  usage.  To  her  they  repre 
sented  waste  time  almost,  and  only  as  a  means  of 
communication  with  Kennaston  did  she,  since  his 
absence  began,  pore  daily  over  a  dictionary,  a 
speller,  and  a  copy-book. 

So  sat  she  now,  a  couple  of  months  after  the 
parting  betwixt  her  and  Sir  Percy;  lips  pursed, 
brows  knit,  goose-feather  in  finger,  poring  over  a 
blank  sheet  of  paper  first,  and  from  it  turning  to 
the  closely-writ  page  of  a  letter  from  her  twin. 

Chockey  sat  on  a  stool  hard  by, — they  were  both 

in  the  buttery,  for  Lady  Peggy  was  apt  with  all 

the  mysteries  of  housekeeping,  and  had  as  fine  a 

churning,  as  big  cheeses,  as  fat  chickens,  as 

17 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

eggs,  as  good  hams  as  any  other  in  the  county, — 
had  she  not,  the  Earl,  her  father,  had  lacked  some 
thing  or  all  of  his  comfort.  Choekey,  then,  sat 
working  butter,  squeezing  all  the  white  milky  bub 
bles  back  and  forth  in  the  wooden  bowl,  and  print 
ing  the  pats  in  the  trays,  while  her  mistress  sighed, 
swallowed,  and  at  last  burst  forth  in  speech. 

"Choekey,  I  shall  fall  into  a  fit,  an  I've  ever 
another  letter  to  write  in  this  world.  The  last  I 
writ  was  for  Sir  Eobin  to  introduce  him  to  Lord 
Kennaston  when  he  should  go  up  to  town — and  be 
like,  I  forgot  to  give  it  to  him  as  I  promised  and 
have  it  safe  here.  It  took  me  a  week  to  finish,  and 
I've  copied  all  the  words  out  of  it  I  can,  yet  do  I 
lack  thousands  more,  methinks,  to  say  what  I 
would  to  my  brother.  Lud  !  Learning's  a  wonderful 
thing !  Look  at  that,  Chock !" 

Lady  Peggy  holds  up  the  well  covered  pages  of 
Kennaston's  letter  before  the  eyes  of  the  Abigail. 

"Aye,  Madam,''  giggles  this  one,  "it  has  the  air 
to  me  of  where  spiders  has  been  a-fightin' !  Now, 
for  true,  My  Lady,  do  it  say  words  as  has  a  mean- 
in'  r 

"Listen,"  replies  the  mistress,  reading  off  quite 
18 


GOES      TO       TOWN 

glibly,  since  'tis  the  one  hundredth  time  since  she 
got  it  that  she's  rehearsed  the  same  to  herself. 

"SWEET  SISTEB  PEGGY  :  I'd  have  written  before 
but  that  literature  pays  ill  until  a  man  hath  con 
trived  by  preference  and  patronage,  the  rather 
than  by  his  wits,  to  place  himself  at  evens  with  the 
Great  and  the  Distinguished.  So  far  I  find  Fame's 
hill  hard  in  the  Climbing,  but  do  I  not  complain, 
for  there's  that  spirit  reigning  in  my  breast  as  bids 
me  welcome  Poverty,  even  Starvation,  lead  it  but 
to  the  sometime  recognition  of  my  Talents.  I  take 
up  my  pen  not  to  riddle  your  ears  with  plaints, 
but  on  another  matter,  which  is  Sir  Percy." 

Lady  Peggy's  head  droops  a  bit  to  match  her 
voice,  whilst  Chocke/s  bright  little  eyes  sparkle, 
and  she  twists  the  yellow  butter  into  heart  shapes 
a=  she  pricks  her  ears  and  sighs. 

"Sir  Percy/'  continues  My  Lady  Peggy,  reading, 
"as  you  know  came  up  to  town,  now  these  seven 
weeks  agone,  straight  as  a  die  to  my  meagre  cham 
bers,  where  welcome  was  spelled.  I  can  assure  thee, 
all  over  the  bare  floor,  barer  board,  and  barer  mas 
ter  thereof, — for  of  a  truth  I  love  him  as  should 
19 


I  the  brother  I  had  hoped  he'd  be!  Peg,  what's 
this  thou'st  done  to  the  lad?  Thrown  him,  a  gal 
lant  with  as  big  a  heart  as  God  ever  made,  over 
into  the  Devil's  own  mire,  for  sake  of  that  little 
tow-haired  sprat,  Eobin  McTart!  with  his  pate 
full  of  himself  and  none  other, — so  I've  heard  say, 
for  never  set  I  eyes  upon  the  blackguard  from 
Kent !  Zounds !  twin !  What  are  ye  women  made 
of?  And  I  write  to  say  Percy,  what  with  carous 
als  and  brawls,  and  drink  and  fights,  and  all  night 
at  the  gaming-table,  and  all  day  God  knows  where. 
?s  fast  a-throwing  himself  piecemeal  into  the  grave 
he's  a-digging  daily  for  your  cruel  sake.  Could 
you  but  see  him !  A  ghost !  Wan,  with  eyes  full 
of  blood-spots,  and  hair  unkempt !  Madam,  there's 
love  for  you — and  love's  what  ladies  like.  Go 
match  him,  Sister,  with  McTart  if  you  can,  but 
twin  me  no  more  ever  again  an  you  and  I  wear 
black  ribbons  for  Percy  de  Bohun !" 

Lady  Peggy's  lip  quivers;  so  does  Chockey's. 
"Lawk,  My  Lady !"  cries  the  girl,  splashing  tears 
into  the  butter,  reckless. 

"  'Black  ribbons/  Chock !  'A  ghost/  Chock !  'Me- 
20 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

Tart/  Chock !  Lord  ha'  mercy  !  What's  to  become 
o'  me  ?"  Peggy's  tears  smart  her  eyes  as  she  flings 
the  goose-quill  over  to  a  cheese  on  the  shelf,  where 
it  sticks,  and  one  day  surprises  the  Vicar  at  his 
supper. 

"Get  out  of  my  sight !"  she  flings  after  it.  "I 
can't  write!  Who  can  write  out  her  heart  and 
soul,  when  it's  devilish  hard  even  to  speak  it.  Oh ! 
Would  I  were  my  brother  for  one  fine  half -hour !" 
cries  Peggy,  rising  and  stamping  up  and  down  the 
stone  floor  of  the  buttery. 

"An*  if  you  were,  Madam?"  asks  Chockey 
meekly,  "what  then  ?" 

"I'd  swear !  Yea,  would  I !  Such  a  lot  of  splen 
did  oaths  as'd  ease  my  mind  and  let  me  hear  from 
my  own  lips  what  a  fool's  part  I'd  played  with  my 
own — my  adored  Percy !  Could  I  but  see  him ! 
as  Kennaston  says."  Peggy  in  her  progress  now 
upsets  a  pan  of  cream,  and  has  genuine  pleasure  in 
splashing  it  about  over  her  slippers  as  she  speaks. 

"But  I !  What  am  I  ?  A  girl !  swaddled  in  pet 
ticoats  and  fallals;  tethered  to  an  apron,  and  a 
besom,  and  a  harpsichord,  and  a  needle, — yet  can 
I  snap  a  rapier,  fire  a  pistol,  jump  a  ditch,  land  a 
21 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

fish,  for  my  brother  taught  me.  Still  it's  girl! 
girl!  sit  by  the  fire  and  spin!  dawdle!  dally!" 
The  cream  now  spots  up  as  far  as  Peggy's  chin  and 
flecks  its  dimple. 

"Stop-at-home,  nor  stir-abroad !  Smile,  ogle  !" 
each  word  emphasized  with  heel  and  toe. 

"And — "  Lady  Peggy  now  flops  back  into  her 
chair,  breathless,  "wait  on  man's  will  and  whims, — 
that,  Chock,  's  what  'tis  to  be  a  woman." 

"Aye,  'tis,"  assents  the  waiting  woman.  "But 
yet,  My  Lady,  if  I  dared  make  bold,  there's  summat 
Your  Ladyship  might  do,  an  My  Lady,  Your 
Ladyship's  mother,  came  back  home  again  from 
her  visit  to  your  uncle  in  York." 

"Out  with  it!"  says  Peggy  hopelessly,  folding 
up  her  attempted  letter  and  tucking  it  in  her 
reticule. 

"Mayhap  you  could  persuade,  by  much  weeping 
and  praying,  falling  into  swoons  and  such  like, 
that  Her  Ladyship  would  take  you  up  to  London ! 
Once  there,  Sir  Percy  couldn't  keep  his  distance 
from  you." 

Peggy  looks  at  Chockey  as  if  she  were  a  vision 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

sent  from  on  high;  then,  quickly  succeeding  de 
rision  curls  her  lip. 

"My  Lady  mother  take  a  squealing  chit  like  me 
up  to  town!  Never!  She'd  say  my  manners 
weren't  fit,  or  my  figger,  or  my  wardrobe.  Lud ! 
Chock !  Bethink  thee,  lass,  of  my  gowns  in  Lon 
don  town!  and  me  no  more  acquainted  with  the 
ways  yonder,  than  our  Brindle  is  with  the  family 
pew!" 

Lady  Peggy  walked  out  into  the  paddock, 
rubbed  the  cream  from  her  slippers  on  the  turf; 
caressed  the  ponies;  munched  the  sweet  cake  she 
had  in  her  apron-pocket,  felt  the  keen  sweet  air 
blow  over  her  hot  forehead,  and  saw,  dancing  ever 
before  her  mind's  eye,  that  insidious  sweet  sug 
gestion  of  "going  up  to  London." 

How  did  one  go  up  to  London  ? 

In  the  coach :  aye  to  be  sure ;  and  the  coach  left 
the  "Mermaid"  in  the  village  every  Tuesday  and 
Thursday  at  five  in  the  morning.  The  coach !  The 
splendid  coach,  a-swinging  on  its  springs  like  a 
gigantic  cradle;  the  postillions  a-snapping  their 
whips,  the  coachman  a-cracking  his  long  lash  and  a- 
shouting  "All  h'up  for  London!"  and  the  ladies 
23 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

and  gentlemen — well  armed,  these  last,  in  dread  of 
the  highwaymen  on  the  heath — all  a-piling  in  and 
a-settling  themselves;  and  the  guards  a-tooting 
their  horns,  the  landlady  and  the  boots  and  the 
maids  and  the  hostlers  all  a-bowing  and  a-scraping 
and — off  they  go !  for  London  town — where 
Percy  was  a-pining  and  a-dying  for  her,  so  her 
twin  writ  in  his  letter. 

Well,  Lady  Peggy  went  in,  clapt  on  a  fresh  gown 
and  shoes,  and  never  was  daughter  more  tender 
and  patient  with  crabbed,  gouty,  crusty  dad  than 
she  all  through  that  lovely  day.  Playing  back 
gammon;  spelling  out  the  newspaper;  trouncing 
the  cat  when  it  jumped  on  His  Lordship's  leg; 
blowing  the  fire ;  wheeling  his  chair  from  hither  to 
yon;  stroking  the  bald  head;  combing  the  white 
whiskers ;  and  finally  said  she, 

"Daddy,  London's  a  very  big  sort  of  a  place, 
now,  isn't  it?" 

The  Earl  nods,  coddling  his  leg  into  the  slip 
of  sunshine  that's  walking  westerly  away  from 
him. 

"My  brother  lodges,  so  he  says,  at  the  corner  of 
Holy  well  Road  and  Lark  Lane;  tell  me,  dad, 
24 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

where  should  that  be  now?"  Lady  Peggy  has  a 
careless  air,  and  flecks  a  buzzing  fly  out  of  His 
Lordship's  bowl  of  porridge. 

"Eh?"  pursues  she,  "is't  for  instance,  in  the 
city,  or  nigh  London  Bridge,  or  where  the  quality 
lives,  or  toward  Southwark,  or  where?" 

"Rot  me  !"  cries  His  Lordship,  looking  up  at  his 
daughter  in  surprise,  "what's  my  poppet  got  into 
her  pretty  head  now,  forsooth?  Tut,  tut,  girl, 
what's  town  to  thee,  or  its  bearings?  hey?  stick 
thy  eye  into  thy  churn  an'  keep  thy  hand  on  the 
dasher, — 'twere  better'n  all  the  shops  in  Piccadilly, 
or  all  the  fops  at  Court." 

"Slow,  dad!  I  was  only  askin'  of  my  twin's 
whereabouts.  Shops  and  fops  are  not  dizzyin'  your 
Peggy,  you  may  swear;  'tis  my  brother,  Sir,  of 
whom  I'd  learn !" 

"  'Twere  better  chase  the  scoundrel  out'n  my 
head,  Peg,  than  hammer  him  in !  A  lad  with  every 
chance  here  in  the  county  to  raise  his  house,  and 
make  a  good  match  with  a  nice  plump  girl,  havin' 
land  joining  his  own ;  but  no !  Up  and  off  to  town 
to  starve  and  scratch !" 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

The  Earl  pommels  the  floor  with  his  stick,  caus 
ing  the  cat  to  leap  into  the  air. 

"Let  him  die  in  want !  Let  him  freeze,  thirst, 
come  to  the  gallows,  say  I!  For  such  as  leaves 
plenty  to  pursue  want,  gets  no  sympathy  from 
me!" 

"He  ain't  begged  fort  yet,  dad,"  says  Peggy 
very  mildly.  "All  I  was  a-wonderin'  was  this: 
When  my  brother  took  the  coach  at  the  Mermaid 
that  mornin'  you  mind  ?  how  far  off  the  inn  where 
he  alighted  was  the  lodgin'  at  the  corner  of  Holy- 
well  Road  and  Lark  Lane? — eh,  dad?  Surely" — 
and  here  Lady  Peggy  knelt  and  stroked  his  lord 
ship's  gouty  member,  and  her  voice  positively 
trembled,  doubtless  with  excess  of  filial  zeal  and 
devotion. 

"Surely,"  resumed  she,  "you,  who  were,  I  dare 
be  sworn" — such  arch  eyes  as  Lady  Peggy  now 
made! — "a  fine  gallant  not  so  many  years  ago, 
must  remember  that, — don't  you  ?" 

"Let's  see,  let's  see,"  responds  His  Lordship,  rub 
bing  his  head.  "They  set  ye  down  at  the  King's 
Arms,  nigh  the  Bridge,  Southwark  Bridge,  yes; 
Well !  Damme !  I  ought  to  know !  Lark  Lane  ? 
26 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

A  devil  of  a  hole;  why,  girl!  it's  not  a  quarter 
hour's  trot  from  the  inn,  hut  it's  a  beastly  en 
vironment.  Gad !  that  son  of  mine  chooses  pens, 
ink  and  writing-paper  there,  rather  than — " 

"Lady  Belinda  here,  weight  fourteen  stone; 
acres  two  thousand;  guineas,  countless;  temper, 
amazin' ;  years,  untold !  ha !  ha !  ha !  Oh,  daddy !" 
Lady  Peggy  springs  up  and  dances  about  a  minute 
in  most  genuine  gaiety,  then  she  seizes  her  father's 
head  between  her  palms  and  hugs  and  kisses  him 
with  much  grateful  warmth;  then  flops  down 
a-coddling  of  the  gout  again;  laughing,  giggling, 
pinching  puss,  and  saying, — 

"Daddy,  drop  London !  Care  I  no  more  for't. 
Know  I  quite  enough.  Let's  chat  of  aught  else  in 
the  world,  until  you  fall  a-napping,  which  will  be 
soon  now,  guessing  by  the  shadows." 

'Twas  very  soon. 

Then  Lady  Peggy  tiptoed  off  to  her  chamber; 
then  she  pulled  the  rope  that  rang  in  the  kitchen, 
and  presently  Chockey  came,  chopper  and  bowl 
in  hand,  checkered  apron  over  white  one ;  for  serv 
ing  maids  were  scarce  in  Kennaston  Hall,  foot 
men  there  were  none;  butler  there  was  when  he 

m 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

wis  not  doing  t'other  half  his  duty  at  tfie  stables. 

"Come  hither,  Chockey,"  says  her  mistress  in  a 
whisper,  with  a  beckon.  "Shut  the  door;  go  on 
with  choppin'  your  leeks  and  carrots,  cook'll  want 
'em  for  the  soup, — but  listen,  Chock ;  unlock  your 
ears  Jane  Chockey,  as  never  you  did  before  in  your 
life/' 

Chockey  bobs  as  she  chops,  leaning  against  the 
headpost,  for  support  of  her  occupation,  and  also 
of  her  curiosity. 

"You  know  my  mother's  box,  the  small  one  that 
was  re-covered  last  spring  with  the  skin  of  the 
red  calf  that  died  natural  ?  Bickers  put  it  on  with 
*  gross  of  brass  nails  ?" 

Chockey  again  bobs. 

"Put  into  it,"  continues  Lady  Peggy,  "a  change 
of  linen  for  yourself  and  me,  two  night-rails," 
Chockey's  eyes  dilate,  "my  gray  taffeta  gown  with 
the  flowered  petticoat,  my  green  hood  and  kerchief ; 
powder,  patch-box,  lavender,  musk,  pins,  needles; 
my  red  silken  hose ;  your  Sunday  cap  and  sleeves" 
— Chockey's  chopper  ceases  to  work,  and  the  bed- 
poet  creaks.  "AH  of  which,"  continues  her  mis- 
ke«s,  "is  but  prelude  to  saying :  'I'm  going  up  to 
28 


GOES      TO      T  0  W  ¥ 

London  by  to-morrow's  coach,  and  I'm  takin'  yoi 
with  me !' " 

"Madam!"  Down  goes  the  bowl,  leeks,  car 
rots,  chopper  and  all  a-spilling  over  the  floor. 

"Aye,"  says  Peggy  calmly,  "gather  up  thy  mess, 
Chock,  and  to  work  with  the  duds.  Lay  out  my 
Levantine  gown,  my  blue  kerchief,  my  black  silk 
hose,  my  brown  cloak;  and,  from  my  mother's 
press,  take  the  thick  fall  of  Brussels  lace  and  the 
brown  bonnet  it's  tied  to,  and  bring  'em  hither; 
put  them  under  the  bed  beside  thy  trundle  so's 
my  father5!!  not  see  'em  when  he  stops  to  bid  me 
good-night.  Borrow  cook's  hat  she  bought  at  the 
Fair  when  she  was  young,  and  her  delaine  veil 
for  thyself;  for,  so  appareled  as  not  to  be  recog 
nized,  will  you,  dear  Chock,  and  my  Lady  Peggy 
take  the  coach  on  April  the  twelfth.  But,  Chock, 
remember,  mum's  the  word,  an  you  let  your  tongue 
wag  to  my  undoing,  but  the  thousandth  part  of  a 
syllable,  your  mistress  and  you  part  company  for 
ever!  Go." 

Chockey  picked  up  Lady  Peggy's  waving  hand 
between  a  pinch  of  her  apron,  lest  her  onion- 
smelling  fingers  should  foul  so  dainty  a  morsel, 
29 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

kissed  it,  and  off  and  obeyed,  speechless  from  sur 
prise  and  veneration,  both. 

At  night's  fall, — the  Earl,  somnolent  again 
from  fire's  warmth  and  the  port  he  would  take, 
despite  the  surgeon's  orders  to  the  contrary, — Lady 
Peggy,  Chockey  in  her  wake,  purse  in  hand,  went 
scouting  through  the  kitchen-garden,  the  paddocks, 
the  cowyard  to  the  stable  where  Bickers's  pipe 
shone  in  the  gloaming  like  a  fire-gem  as  he  dodged 
and  lurched  after  a  refractory  colt. 

Bickers,  albeit  sometimes  the  slave  of  beer,  was 
all  times  Lady  Peggy's  abject,  and  it  took  no  ef 
fort  nor  persuasion  to  gain  him  to  her  will.  He 
took  his  orders  amiably, — they  were  to  secure 
two  places  in  the  London  mail  for  to-morrow  morn 
ing,  and  strictly  to  hold  his  peace  both  now  and 
forever  about  the  whole  concern. 

Peggy  gave  him  the  price  of  the  seats  and  with 
wise  Castle-mistress  foresight,  she  showed  Bickers 
a  sovereign  beside. 

"And  Bickers,"  said  Lady  Peggy,  "considering 
that  the  devil  walks  abroad  often  in  the  Mermaid's 
tap-room,  I  am  told,  I'll  keep  the  sovereign  for 
you  'til  you  come  back,  lest  he  rob  you  of  it,  eh  ?" 
30 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

"Well,  My  Lady,"  said  Bickers ;  "a  whole  sover 
eign,  My  Lady,  ain't  often  seen  out  of  the  quality's 
pockets,  and  the  devil  might  think  I'd  stole  it,  My 
Lady,  and  try  to  get  it  from  me.  Keep  it,  My 
Lady,  keep  it!" 

With  which  the  old  man,  having  conquered  the 
colt,  set  off  for  the  village  by  a  side-path  all  too 
well  known  to  his  tread.  Presently  by  the  spark 
in  his  pipe-bowl  the  two  women  saw  that  he  had 
turned  back;  that,  as  he  came  close  to  them,  he 
clapped  his  thumb  over  the  glow,  and, 

"My  Lady  Peggy,"  mumbled  he  sheepishly. 

"Whatever  is't,  Bickers?"  cries  his  mistress  in 
alarm. 

''Naught  to  fright  ye,  My  Lady,  only  it's  been  on 
my  mind  these  many  days  to  tell  you  as  the  letter 
you  sent  me  with  to  Sir  Percy  de  Bohun — " 

"Well,  well?"  Lady  Peggy's  words  came  with 
a  gasp,  as  the  old  man  dead  stops. 

"Go  on  Bickers,  I  say !"  the  mi  stress's  foot  stamps 
with  a  thud  on  the  damp  earth. 

"Askin*  Your  Ladyship's  parding,  the  devil 
caught  me  that  time  at  the  Kennaston  Arms,  My 


31 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

Lady,  and  he  clawed  that  tight,  My  I^dy,  that  I 
couldn't  stir,  and — and — " 

Peggy  now  stooped,  seized  a  billet  of  wood  as 
big  as  her  arm  and  gave  Bickers  a  sound  drub 
across  his  hands.  The  pipe  fell  in  bits,  the  ash 
glowed ;  Bickers  jumped,  so  did  Chockey. 

"  'And,  and'  what  ?"  drubbed  Peggy  with  a  will. 
"Not  so  much  as  ha'  penny  of  the  sovereign,  un 
less  you  out  with  the  whole  truth !" 

"I  will!  I  will !"  cried  the  old  man.  "Sir  Percy 
never  got  the  letter,  My  Lady,  until  the  very  day  I 
seen  him  on  the  long  roan  a-ridin'  for's  life  away 
from  the  Castle  yonder,"  and  Bickers  jerked  his 
thumb  toward  the  house  as  he  now  made  off. 

The  devil  did  not  catch  Bickers  that  night;  he 
earned  his  sovereign  before  the  moon  rose. 

As  he  sped,  Lady  Peggy  took  Chockey's  prof 
fered  arm. 

"You  see,  Chock,  you  see,  how  we  that  are  born 
to  wear  petticoats  are  no  better'n  puppets !  a-dan- 
cin*  and  a-cryin';  or  a-kneelin'  and  a-weepin',  as 
it  happens  to  suit  the  whim  of  what,  Chock  ?  Who, 
Chock  ?  Tell  me,  Chock !"  cries  Lady  Peggy  ex 
citedly. 

32 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

"Lawk,  My  Lady,  that  can  I  not !" 

"A  man,  Chock,  a  man !  it's  a  him  that  pulls  the 
strings,  girl,  and  all  we've  to  do  is  to  simper  and 
jerk  this  way,  that  way.  To  think/'  here  Peggy's 
voice  falters,  for  they've  gained  the  house  and 
are  clambering  the  back  stairs  in  the  dark.  "To 
think  that  Bickers,  Bickers !  should  ha'  made  me 
treat  my  worshiped  Percy  like  a  hog !  Yes,  Chock- 
ey,  like  a  hog!  even  that  name  ain't  vile  enough 
for  me.  But,  oh,  an  I  reach  London  in  safety, 
and  gain  my  brothers  chambers,  and  learn  from 
him  that  'tis  for  very  love  of  me  Sir  Percy's  can- 
terin*  to  perdition,  then,  Chock,  Lady  Peggy'll 
know  how  to  spell  paradise  for  him  she's  riskin' 
much  to  hear  the  truth  about." 

"But,  My  Lady,"  ventures  Chockey,  who,  not 
withstanding  the  blissful  prospect  of  seeing  Lon 
don,  still  had  a  practical  eye  toward  the  dangers 
that  beset  the  path,  both  thereto,  and  once  there. 

"But,  My  Lady,  supposin'  we  can't  find  Lord 
Kennaston's  lodgin's;  supposin'  he's  away  from 
home  when  we  get  there;  or,  a-havin'  a  party,  or 
ain't  got  no  place  for  us  to  sleep ;  or  suppose — " 

"Suppose  me  no  supposes,  Chock !"  Lady  Peggy 
33 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 


shakes  eat  the  Levantine  gown  from  its  wrinkles. 
If  London  were  the  black  pit,  and  an  army  of 

Sitans  a~£jtrm*  cnnrnn*  around  tfcp  brim,  nil! 
would  I  go  and  find  out  lor  myself  if  ifs  for  me 
be  pines—  or,  if  Lady  Diana  Weston  is  up  in  Lon 
don  too  P*  With  whkh  Her  Ladyship  giTes  the  pet 
ticoat,  die  takes  from  its  peg  against  the  morrow, 

10  So"  riilic:.j-\i£ 


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flower-garden  next  the  court-raid  of  tie  Castle, 

cine  pocc^^v.  l*^ed  bj  the  f^h  ihat  bj 
tingeing  aH  the  pallid  east  wiA  rose;  the 
hung  !:-w  ;>  her  5*r7±ig.  asd  tw 

of  all  her  nuQian  tnnp^ 

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MY      LADY      PEGGY 

at  either  side  the  disk;  yonder,  the  steeple  of  the 
church  pricked  up  to  heaven;  hither,  the  oaks, 
greening  to  their  full  leafage ;  there  a  brown  rab 
bit  scurried  across  the  road ;  here  the  rooks  hopped 
and  ha-ha-ed  to  their  fellows.  Else,  'twas  all  a~ 
hush  with  that  recurring  fond  expectancy  of  hope, 
with  which  every  day  of  every  year  so  waits  and 
wonders  for  "to-morrow"  to  be  born. 

Lady  Peggy  took  the  lead,  kirtle  high  upheld, 
shoes  soon  bedrabbled  in  the  dust  and  dew.  Chock- 
ey,  bearing  the  newly-covered  box  in  her  stout 
arms,  followed  close  at  heel.  Both  women,  veiled 
double,  and  being  wholly  unused  to  such  matters, 
sighting  the  path  much  the  worse  for  the  covering ; 
in  fact  Peggy  stumbled  along  like  some  old  crone, 
and  yet  laughed  under  her  breath  merrily  back  at 
floundering  Chockey. 

"Hist!  Chock,  had  I  now  but  brought  dad's 
cane  and  snuff-box,  I  must  sure  be  taken  for  some 
three-score  dame  come  yawning  out  of  bed  before 
her  hour,  to  overtake,  mayhap,  a  recreant  grand 
son  !  Zounds !  as  my  twin'd  say,  were  he  here,"  and 
hauling  at  the  mischievous  Brussels  veil,  down 


36 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

flopped  Her  Ladyship,  on  her  knees  betwixt  two 
villainous  ruts. 

"Oh,  My  Lady!"  moaned  the  waiting-woman 
panting  under  cook's  delaine  and  the  calf-skin 
box.  <rLord  ha'  mercy !  an  this  be  the  way  to  Lon 
don.  I'd  liefer  be  sittin'  in  the  kitchen  chimney 
a-blessin'  my  porridge  and  spoonin'  oft,  than 
this !"  assisting  her  mistress  to  her  feet. 

"Fie  upon  thee,  Chock !  Kemember  you're  wait 
ing-woman  now  to  a  lady  of  fashion,  to  wit  myself, 
and  well  used  to  journeys  up  to  town  in  coaches 
every  season !  Lud !"  Here  Peggy  stood  in  a  pud 
dle  to  take  breath.  "I  wonder  if  we'll  ever  pass 
muster  at  the  inn;  and  yet  I'm  sure,  landlord,  or 
dame,  or  hostler'd  never  think  o'  me." 

"Haste,  Madam,"  returns  Choekey,  "for  do  not 
forget  the  coach  starts  at  five  on  the  stroke,  and 
we've  still  the  quarter-mile  to  go." 

So  on  they  went.  My  Lady  Peggy  unable  to 
restrain,  from  time  to  time,  however,  the  keen 
relishful  overflow  of  her  spirits.  When  one's  young 
and  not  ailing,  a  new  day  whips  the  blood  and 
brain  to  such  a  pinnacle  of  unquestioning  gladness 
as  breaks  bonds,  be  they  never  so  weighty,  and, 
37 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

pro  tern.,  sweet  few-years  comrades  him  with  the 
happiness  of  earth  and  air  and  sky. 

But  once  the  curl  of  cheerful  smoke  from  the 
"Mermaid"  chimney  full  in  view  above  the  oak- 
tops,  My  Lady  sobered  much,  and,  clutching  Chock- 
ey's  arm,  both  fell  a-trembling;  stood  stock-still, 
and  stared  into  each  other's  eyes,  as  lace  and  wool 
would  let. 

"Lady  Peggy,"  cries  Chockey,  "an  it  please 
Your  Ladyship/'  with  tell-tale  gasps  of  throat, 
"let's  go  back  home!" 

"Jane  Chockey!"  answered  her  mistress,  only 
needing  this  spur  to  set  her  a-panting  the  more 
to  her  purpose,  "we'll  go  on." 

And  on  they  went.  Peggy  with  a  measured  tread ; 
Chockey  plodding  after.  Into  the  inn-yard,  where 
even  now  the  great  coach  with  its  four  bays  waited; 
the  signal  to  start. 

The  passengers  were  piling  on ;  and,  atop  already, 
quipped  a  trio  of  college  lads  in  beavers.  There 
stood  mine  host  and  hostess,  maids,  men,  boys, 
cooks,  and  scullions;  tips  were  tossed,  baggage 
packed  in  the  boot ;  farewells  spoken ;  candles  held 


38 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

high,  lashes  cracked;  prancing,  pawing;  a  rattle, 
a  door-bang,  curtsies,  bows, — 

"All  h'up  for  the  London  mail!"  shouted  the 
coachman  merrily. 

And  Lady  Peggy  and  her  woman,  neatly  sand 
wiched  between  a  fat,  fussy  dowager  and  a  swear 
ing,  tearing  old  gentleman  who  together  absorbed 
the  most  of  the  vehicle  and  all  the  attention  of 
their  fellow  passengers,  found  themselves  on  the 
road  to  town. 

No  one  paid  the  least  heed  to  them,  save  that, 
at  the  stops,  the  guard  came  civilly  to  ask  Chockey 
if  her  mistress  required  any  refreshment,  to  the 
which  Chockey,  well  prepared,  always  answered 
"no" ;  since,  to  raise  their  veils  might  betray  their 
identity.  So  'twas  in  hunger,  silence  and  oblivion 
that  the  momentous  journey  was  taken. 

When  they  crossed  the  heath,  the  testy  old  gen 
tleman  did  turn  toward  Peggy,  thereby  flattening 
her  the  more,  and,  pulling  out  a  brace  of  pistols, 
said: 

"Have  no  fears,  Madam,  I've  traveled  this  road 
these  sixty  years,  probably  you  have  yourself"— 


39 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

thus  paying  tribute  to  Peggy's  now  trembling  agi 
tation,  which  he  pleasantly  mistook  for  age. 

"And  the  damned  rascals,  Madam,  know  bet- 
ter'n  to  attack  the  coach  when  I'm  aboard.  You're 
not  in  fear  ?"  now  bending  a  pair  of  sharp  old  eyee 
on  the  Brussels  lace. 

Lady  Peggy,  smothering  her  laughter,  and  re 
calling  how  often,  half-a-seore  years  ago,  she's  sat 
on  this  old  gentleman's  knee  (he  was  a  friend  of 
her  father's),  puts  hand  to  ear,  and  nudges  Chock- 
ey  behind  the  broad  back  of  the  dowager. 

The  old  gentleman  nods  comprehendingly,  turns 
square  to  Chockey,  and  says  "deaf  ?" 

And  Chockey,  divided  between  terror  and  mirth, 
nods  bacK  again. 

Without  other  incident,  the  journey  up  to  the 
great  city  is  accomplished,  and,  by  three  in  the 
afternoon,  up  pull  the  four  horses  before  the  door 
of  the  King's  Arms  in  the  Strand,  and  Lady  Peg 
gy,  and  her  woman,  and  her  box,  are  set  down  in 
the  yard,  amid  the  din  and  bustle  incident  always 
to  the  arrival  of  travelers. 

Not  much  attention  is  bestowed  on  them.  A 
couple  of  unpretending  appearing  women,  evident- 
40 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

ly  not  persons  of  quality,  as  th«  meek  little  calf 
skin  box  is  their  sole  belonging;  coming  up  to 
London  too  without  even  one  man-servant, — be 
speak  but  little  consideration  in  the  throng  of 
ladies  of  fashion,  gallants  over  their  coffee,  cour 
tiers  popping  in  for  the  news,  sparks  intent  on 
ogling  a  pretty  face  or  noting  a  trim  ankle,  that 
much  o'er  crowded  the  yard,  ordinary  and  parlor 
of  the  King's  Arms. 

Just  here  once,  for  an  instant,  Lady  Peggy's 
brave  heart  failed  her;  most,  when  she  espied  at 
the  door,  just  getting  into  her  silken-curtained 
chair,  a  lady,  so  young  and  beautiful,  so  richly 
girt,  so  spick  and  span,  with  such  wonderful 
patches  and  such  snowy  powdered  locks,  such 
sparkling  eyes,  such  begemmed  fingers  glistening 
through  her  mitts, — and  knew  at  once  that  Lady 
Diana  Weston  was  indeed  "in  town" ! 

She  faltered  a  bit,  indeed  sank  down  on  the  box 
which  Chockey  had  set  in  a  corner  of  the  yard,  and, 
for  a  brief  moment,  both  mistress  and  maid  be 
dewed  their  masking  falls  with  a  few  splashing 
teai 

Then  spoke  Lady  Peggy,  rising  and  plucking 
41 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

up  her  spirits, — "Chock,"  said  she,  "beckon  me  a 
boy  from  yonder  group;  inquire  the  path  to  the 
corner  of  Holywell  Eoad  end  Lark  Lane;  order 
him  shoulder  the  box  and  lead  the  way.  Speak 
with  a  swagger,  Chock ;  knock  the  drops  out  of  your 
lashes  with  a  laugh,  girl !  Let  'em  think  we're  old 
hands  at  the  town  and  used  to  bein'  waited  upon !" 
Lady  Peggy  straightened  herself  in  her  grimy 
shoes,  and  gave  the  Levantine  a  twitch  which  she 
hoped  was  quite  the  mode. 

Meantime  Chockey  did  her  mistress's  bidding, 
and  in  less  time  than  it  takes  to  set  it  down,  the 
two  were  following  the  lad,  in  and  out  of  such  a  net 
and  mazework  of  streets  and  lanes  as  set  their 
heads  a- whirling;  now  they  wheeled  around  this 
bend,  now  across  that  alley, — foul-smelling  as  a 
ditch  or  a  dirty  dog ;  anon  up  a  broader  way  where 
knockers  shone  and  chairs  waited  at  the  curb; 
then  a  cut  down  here,  and  at  last  this  was  Holy- 
well  Road  and  yonder  the  opening  of  Lark  Lane. 

Well,  to  be  sure,  'twas  a  sorry  spot.  As  Lady 
Peggy  paid  the  boy  and  stood  on  the  step,  she  rue 
fully  surveyed  the  environment;  the  wig-maker's 
opposite,  with  a  wig  in  the  window,  she  half- 
42 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

laughingly  noted,  the  very  yellow  counterpart  of 
Sir  Eobin  MeTart's  round  pate ;  a  dingy  chocolate- 
house  at  t'other  end  of  the  row  of  dark,  timbered, 
nodding  houses ;  and  this  one  of  the  stretch,  taller, 
grimier  even  than  it's  forlorn  neighbors,  "was 
where  poor  scribbling  Kennaston  hunted  that  jade 
called  Fame ! 

At  double-knock,  came  hobbling  the  charwoman, 
loath  to  be  disturbed  at  her  twilight  pipe,  but 
brisking  at  sight  of  Lady  Peggy's  now  uncovered 
face  and  shilling  between  fingers. 

"Yes,  indeed,  here  His  Lordship  lodged  and  ate ; 
was  His  Lordship  at  'ome  ?  Nay,  that  was  he  not ! 
but  surely  might  be  before  cock-crow  to-morrow! 
His  Lordship's  sister !  Lawk !  Would  Her  Lady 
ship  and  Her  Ladyship's  woman  condescend  to  come 
in  and  mount  ?  What  a  beautiful  surprise  for  'is 
young  Lordship  when  he  did  get  'ome  to  be  sure  I 
No,  he  'adn't  gone  out  alone,  a  gay  spark,  a  gen 
tleman  of  the  first  quality  'ad  come,  as  often  'e 
did,  and  fetched  h'off  His  Lordship  with  'im,  last 
night;  'is  name?  Was  it  Sir  Kobin  McTart  per- 
adventure  ?  No,  no,  that  was  a  name  she  'ad  never 


43 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

'eard !     'Twas  no  Duke  nor  Earl  neither,  but  a — 
Sir,  Sir—?'* 

And  as  the  old  woman  and  Chockey,  carrying 
the  calf-skin  box  between  them,  reached  the  last 
landing  and  set  their  burden  down  in  thankful 
ness,  Lady  Peggy,  feeling  the  way,  said : 

"Sir  Percy  de  Bohun,  perchance?  Methinks 
my  brother  has  a  companion  by  some  such  title !" 

"Aye,  that's  'im !  Ah,  My  Lady,  as  splendid  a 
gentleman  as  ever  sang  'God  save  the  King!'  free 
with  'is  sovereigns,  My  Lady,  as  trees  is  with  their 
nuts ;  and,  to  match  'im  for  oaths !  there's  not  that 
Prince  o'  the  blood  as  can  swear  so  beautiful  when 
Vs  dead  drunk.  These  is  'is  Lordship's  your 
brother's  chambers,  My  Lady !"  throwing  open  the 
door  and  ushering  Peggy  and  her  servitor  into 
as  dingy,  dirty,  empty,  sad,  bare,  and  unkempt  an 
appearing  place  as  ever  mortal  and  intrepid  lady 
set  two  tired  feet  within. 

But  Lady  Peggy,  for  the  nonce,  was  only  eager 
on  one  point. 

"Drunk,  say  you,  dame?  and  wherefore  should 
so  generous  a  young  gentleman  be  a-gallopin'  that 
silly  road,  eh?" 

44 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

"Lawk !  Your  Ladyship !  'ow  should  I  know  ?  but 
His  Lordship's  own  gentleman,  My  Lady,  what 
'olds  'im  up  and  steadies  His  Lordship  in  'is  cups, 
do  say" — the  old  charwoman,  whisking  the  dust  of 
ages  from  a  wooden  chair,  sets  it  for  Lady  Peggy 
and  bends  to  tidy  the  hearth  and  gather  together 
the  few  shingles  and  faggots  strewn  about. 

"'Say'  what?"  urges  Peggy,  with  eager  eyes 
and  a  sixpence  shining  in  her  hand  (another  shill 
ing's  more  than  she  dare  hazard  of  her  slender 
store) 

"Do  say,  My  Lady, — God  bless  Your  Ladyship's 
sweet  face!  as  it's  h'all  on  account  of  a  young 
lady!" 

Lady  Peggy's  eyes  sparkle  and  all  at  once  the 
smoky  room  seems  cheerful,  and  the  tardy  blaze 
in  the  fire-place  glows  and  thaws  her  chilled  bones 
and  blood. 

"Ah  ?"  she  says,  smiling. 

"Yes,  My  Lady,  a  splendid  young  lady  of  fash 
ion,  an  heiress,  a  beauty,  with  half  London  a-dang- 
lin'  after  'er;  and  'er  that  'aughty,  as  if  she  was 
of  the  royal  family,  and  'im  a-killin'  'imself  for 
'er  sake !" 

45 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

And  back  again  slide  Kennaston's  chambers  into 
their  original  depravity  of  dirt  and  dreariness; 
and  down  goes  the  charwoman  to  her  pipe;  and 
Lady  Peggy  on  the  wooden  chair,  Chockey  on  the 
box,  spread  their  fingers  to  the  reluctant  warmth 
and  are  silent ;  while  the  clock  ticks  on  the  mantel 
shelf ;  while  the  slit  of  blue  that  peers  in  at  the 
window,  grays;  while  the  noises  that  are  all  new 
to  these  two,  come  rasping,  roaring,  shouting  up 
to  them  through  the  broken  pane — the  dizzying, 
multitudinous,  incoherent  surge  of  London  town, 
as  it  first  smites  ears  not  yet  wonted  to  its  fascina 
tion  or  its  meaning — merely  lonely,  forlorn,  dis 
pirited  new-comers  who  have  not  yet  learned  the 
passion  and  the  melody  that  lie  hidden  in  its 
Babel. 

The  waiting-woman  is  the  first  to  move;  with 
the  homely  excellent  instincts  of  her  class,  she 
rises,  and,  after  a  slow  glance  around  the  place, 
falls  "a-reddin'  of  it  up"  as  she  mentally  desig 
nated  her  attempt.  She  seized  the  stumpy  broom 
from  its  corner  and  swept  the  floor,  brushed  the 
maze  of  cobwebs  from  ceiling  and  walls;  beat  the 
mats;  wiped  the  stools  and  table,  the  broad  win- 
46 


GOES      TO       TOWN 

dow-sills  and  the  shelves;  shook  out  the  dingy, 
ink-stained  cloth;  straightened  the  litter  of  books 
and  papers,  quills  and  horns;  and  finally  went  a- 
peering  into  the  cupboards.  A  grimy  coffee-pot 
and  a  well-matching  kettle  were  fished  out  and 
rubbed ;  the  kettle  filled  with  water  from  the  tub- 
full  on  the  landing  and  straightway  hung  upon 
the  crane ;  plates  and  cups  and  saucers  and  spoons 
brought  forth;  a  paper  of  coffee,  a  jug  of  milk 
and  a  bottle  of  sugar  discovered,  and  presently 
Chockey  handed  her  mistress  a  cup  of  steaming 
mocha  and  modestly  poured  one  for  herself. 

"Oh,  Chock!"  cries  Lady  Peggy,  setting  down 
the  empty  cup.  "What  a  fool  was  I  to  come! 
What  am  I,  forsooth,  in  all  this  great  desert  but 
a  grain  of  sand!  And  Percy,  not/'  Lady  Peggy 
stamps  her  muddy  red-heeled  shoe  fiercely,  "a- 
dyin'  for  me  in  the  least !  and  my  twin  a-livin"  in 
such  a  hole !  wherever  does  he  sleep,  Chock  ?"  Sur 
veying  the  barn-like  apartment  in  disgust  and  dis 
may,  her  gaze  finally  arrested  by  a  ladder  slant 
ing  in  the  darkest  corner  and  reaching  up  to  an 
opening  in  the  ceiling. 

"Up  there,  I  dare  be  sworn !  Lud !  If  this  'tis 
47 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

to  t>e  an  author,"  flouts  Peggy,  "God  ha'  mercy  on 
'em!  I  tell  you  what,  Chock.  I'll  tarry  a  little, 
have  a  word  with  Kennaston ;  then  we'll  back,  girl, 
whence  we  came,  quick ;  I'll  send  word  to  Sir  Robin 
M  cTart,  and  then  let  weddin'-bells  ring  as  soon  as 
ever  Tie  sees  fit.  No  more  o'  love  for  me,  Chock. 
I'm  done  with  it  forever  in  this  world;  I'll  take 
marriage  instead!" 

Chockey  shakes  her  head  ruefully  as  her  mis 
tress,  more  to  emphasize  her  latest  resolre  than 
from  any  other  motive,  flings  wide  open  the 
cracked  doors  of  the  clothes-press  next  the  chim 
ney-piece  and  gives  a  tempestuous  shake-out  to 
the  garments  a-hanging  on  the  pegs. 

"Lud!  look!  Kennaston's  suit  of  gray  velvets, 
not  much  the  worse  for  wear!  Small  need  has 
the  poor  lad  for  fine  clothes,  I  warrant  ye;  most 
like  a-keepin'  of  'em  for  pawn-shop  use  and  bread 
and  butter!  Chock,  unlock  the  box,  and  get  out 
the  waistcoat  I  broidered  for  my  twin,  at  much  ex 
pense  of  temper,  against  his  birthday.  So !  Smooth 
it  out!  it's  brave,  eh,  Chock?  Fit  for  Court,  I 
should  fancy,  and,  that's  right,  the  laced  cravat! 


48 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

poor  duck,  I  do  misdoubt  me,  if  he's  seen  a  frill 
on  his  wrist  since  quittin'  home !  There !" 

Lady  Peggy  surveys  the  gifts  she's  brought,  as 
Chockey  takes  them  out. 

"Lawk,  Madam,  'twere  better,  were't  not,  I  bun 
dle  all  Your  Ladyship's  duds  and  mine  up  yonder 
against  His  Lordship's  comin'  ?" 

"Right,  Chock !  up  with  'em,  and  I'll  steady  the 
road  while  you  climb !"  Suiting  action  to  word, 
as  Chockey,  bearing  the  calf-skin  box,  cautiously 
mounts  the  rickety  ladder. 

"Whaf  sit  like,  Chock?" 

"Nothin'  I  ever  seed  afore,  My  Lady;  dark, 
stuffy;  a  mattress  a-sprawlin'  on  the  bare  boards, 
and  a  pair  of  torn  quilts,  and  a  piller  no  bigger'n 
my  fist,  that's  all !" 

"Enough,  Chock;  you  and  I  can  sleep  our  one 
night  in  London  there  as  soundly,"  Lady  Peggy's 
proud  lip  quivers,  "as  I  could  on  down  or  'twixt 
my  mother's  best  lamb's  wool !  Come  down,  Chock, 
by  the  fire ;  and  list,  to-morrow,  at  first  crow,  we'll 
back  to  Kennaston.  We'll  'a'  been  up  to  town, 
Chock !  and,  savin'  my  twin,  never  will  Lady  Peg- 


49 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

gy  look  again  on  face  of  any  man  who  now  treads 
London  street.  I  swear!" 

"Hark,  Madam !" 

Chockey  jumps  from  the  ladder,  eyes  a-popping, 
while  the  hubbub  in  the  street  below  cuts  short 
her  mistress's  valiant  speech.  Such  a  hullaballoo ; 
such  a  shouting,  echoing  from  one  end  of  the  pre 
cinct  to  t'other,  as  speeds  mistress  and  maid  both 
to  the  window,  a-craning  their  necks  far  out;  as 
sends  the  charwoman  from  her  ingle-nook  under 
ground,  a-hobbling  up  the  steep  four  nights. 


50 


IV 

In  the  which  is  rehearsed  how  Her  Ladyship 

did  nimbly  slip  into  man's 

attire  and  estate. 

Through  the  fast  gathering  mist,  through  the 
smoke  that's  London's  own,  the  two  women  lean 
ing  behold  a  gay  company  of  gallants  rounding  the 
far  corner,  two  hundred  feet  away;  linked  arms, 
swords  a-touching,  heels  a-clattering ;  one  voice 
high  and  young,  uplifted  in  a  lilt  like  this:  Lady 
Peggy  had  heard  that  voice  before. 

In  years  to  come  when  gallants  sing, 
In  praise  of  ladies  fair, 
All  will  allow,  I  pledge  you  square, 
That  brighter  eyes  n'er  banished  care. 
Than  those  that  bade  us  do  and  dare, 
51 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

When  George  the  Third  was  King! 
Let  roof  and  rafter  chime  and  ring, 
Let  echo  shout  it  "back:  we,  sing 
The  merry  days,  My  Lords  and  Sirs! 
When  George  the  Third  is  King  ! 

And  at  the  chorus,  a  brave  dozen  more  of  pairs 
of  lusty  lungs  to  take  it  up  and  urge  it  on  with 
flashing  rapiers,  knocking  points,  in  the  flare  of 
the  lights  from  the  coffee-house  at  hand ;  and  good 
twelve  of  plumed  hats  a-tossing  in  the  air,  and 
catch-again;  and  laughter  loud  and  long,  then 
dying  down  as  that  fresh  sweet  voice  begins  its 
second  verse,  and  just  so  the  old  charwoman 
knocks  hastily  at  the  door,  calling  in  Lady  Peggy's 
head  and  Chockey's  from  the  open. 

"  'H'askin'  Your  Ladyship's  parding,"  says  she, 
<rbut  I  thought  it  no  more'n  my  duty  to  acquaint 
Your  Ladyship,  as  can't  see  from  this  'eight,  that 
Your  Ladyship's  brother,  Lord  Kennaston's  a-com- 
in'  'ome,  and  a-bringin'  with  'im  'is  comrades, 
among  'em,  Sir  Percy  de  Bohun,  and  mayhap  'er 
Ladyship'd  like  best," — now  addressing  Chockey,  as 
Lady  Peggy  paced  the  floor  in  a  too-evident  agita- 
52 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

tion — 'like  best,"  continued  the  dame,  "to  'ide 
'erself,  and  h'if  so,  the  noble  gentlemen  h'all  of 
'em,  I'm  thinkin',  bein'  summat  raised  with  wine, 
my  'umble  bit  of  a  place  h'is  h'at  Her  Ladyship's 
service  for  the  night  or  as  long  as  Her  Ladyship 
sees  fit,  for  I  am  this  minute  sent  for  to  go  down 
into  the  country  immediate,  where,  God  help  us 
all !  my  tenth  daughter  what's  married  to  her 
second  husband  lies  at  death's  door !" 

And  all  the  while  the  old  charwoman  is  speaking 
between  her  bits  of  broken  teeth,  Peggy  hears  that 
other  voice  uplifted,  ringing,  gay,  glad,  care-free, 
as  it  seems  to  her  strained  ears,  up  and  down  the 
darkening  little  street,  tapping  at  the  window- 
panes,  tapping  at  her  heart-strings  and  stretching 
them  to  such  a  tension  of  anger,  outraged  pride, 
and  wounded  affection  as  never  Lady  suffered  be 
fore. 

She  thanks  the  old  woman  and  hastily  dismisses 
her;  then,  facing  about  from  the  window  whence 
she  has  been  able  to  descry  the  merry  group  mak 
ing  a  rush  into  the  coffee-house,  Her  Ladyship, 
seized  by  a  sudden  mad  impulse,  says  to  her 
woman: 

53 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

"Chock,  take  my  purse,  tumble  as  fast  as  your 
two  legs  can  carry  you  down,  out,  across  to  the 
wigmaker's  we  laughed  at  when  we  came  in,  buy 
me  the  yellow  wig,  Chock,  that  adorns  the  front, 
an'  come  not  back  without  it,  an  you  love  me, 
Chock;  wheedle,  coax,  promise  more'n  there  is 
here,"  sticking  the  purse  in  the  astounded  woman's 
hand,  "but  get  me  the  wig  that  is  the  very  double 
of  dear  Sir  Robin's  own  sweet  pate  !'•*  She  pushes 
Chockey  out  on  the  landing  with  an  impetus  that 
sends  her  well  on  her  errand,  and  then,  shutting 
and  buttoning  the  door,  Lady  Peggy  gets  herself 
out  of  her  furbelows  and  petticoats,  her  stays,  her 
bodice,  her  collar,  brooch,  kerchief,  pocket,  hoop 
and  hair  pins,  and  into  her  brother's  suit  of  grays, 
the  new  waistcoat  and  cravat  she's  brought  him 
for  a  gift;  she  tips  the  coffee-pot  and  washes  her 
face  and  pretty  throat  and  hands  in  the  brown 
liquid;  she  plaits  her  long  hair  and  winds  it  close 
and  tight  about  her  head ;  she  buckles  on  Kennas- 
ton's  Court-rapier,  she  fetches  his  gray  plumed  hat 
with  its  paste  buckle  from  the  press;  she  ogles 
herself  in  the  six-inch  mirror ;  she  swaggers,  swings, 
struts;  and,  says  she,  dipping  her  finger  in  the 
54 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

soot  of  the  old  chimney  and  marking  out  two  black 
beetling  brows  over  her  own  slender  ones, — 

"An  I  know  not  how  to  play  at  being  Sir  Robin, 
Lady  Peggy's  chosen  sweetheart,  boldly  and  with 
a  loud  voice;  know  not  how  to  swear  and  prance 
and  pick  a  pretty  quarrel,  crying  'Match  me  your 
Lady  Diana  with  my  Lady  Peggy !'  then  never  did 
I  dozen  times  for  sport  don  my  twin's  breeches 
and  coat  and  masquerade  at  being  that  sweet 
creature, — a  man !  Ha  !  I  have  it  all  at  fingers' 
ends !"  cries  Peggy,  fumbling  in  her  discarded 
pocket.  "Here's  the  very  letter  I  writ  for  Sir 
Robin  to  take  and  present  to  my  brother.  'Twill 
stand  me  in  good  stead  to-night  that  I  forgot  to 
give  it  to  him.  If  Chockey  but  succeed  in  cajoling 
the  man  out  of  his  wig,  an'  if  the  gallants  come 
not  ere  I  can  fit  it  to  my  head !" — opening  the  door 
impetuously  almost  to  bump  against  the  returning 
Chockey's  nose. 

"Thou  hast  it !  Oh  Chock !  'Tis  I !  be  not  afraid. 
Come  in;  adjust  it  to  my  poll, — so!  Lose  not  a 
moment ;  pick  up  my  petticoats,  leave  not  a  scrap 
that  bespeaks  a  woman ;  there !  You're  dropping 
a  hair-pin;  now,  up  with  ye  to  the  loft!  an'  no 
55 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

Matter  if  rats  nibble  your  toes,  Chock,  or  mice 
come  play  bo-peep  with  your  eye-winkers,  or 
spiders  weave  across  your  mouth,  an  you  stir,  cry 
out,  move  an  inch  to  the  creaking  of  a  board,  I'll 
leave  you  here  your  lone  self  to  shift  as  best  you 
may !  Up  girl !"  touching  the  speechless  Chockey 
with  the  rapier-tip  urgingly,  "and  'tis  Sir  Robin 
McTart  that  bids  you !" 

The  obedient  and  trembling  waiting-woman  was 
not  much  sooner  out  of  sight  in  the  loft,  than 
again  the  voice  echoed  up  to  where  Lady  Peggy 
stood  in  the  gruesome  ambush  of  the  landing, 
well  back  in  the  darkest  corner  behind  a  pile  of 
boards  and  debris,  bricks  and  dust,  and  what-not- 
else  tumbled  there  from  the  chimney  during  the 
last  and  many  previous  storms. 

Nearer  came  the  song,  then  the  chorus,  broken 
now  with  more  of  chat  and  laughter ;  the  footsteps 
sound  upon  the  street,  the  house-door  opens,  slams, 
and  up  they  troop,  stumbling  in  the  blackness  but 
knowing  well  the  way,  it  seems;  merry,  jocund, 
up,  up,  with  the  refrain  of  the  song  still  lingering 
amid  their  talk  in  snatches,  until  thej  gain  the 
top, 

56 


•  OES      TO      TOWN 

"Are  we  then  indeed  at  your  door,  Kennaston  ?" 
cries  the  first  to  reach,  as  he  feels  at  the  latch. 

"Split  me,  Escombe,  you're  there  if  you  can 
go  no  farther.  Egad !  Sirs/'  cries  the  young  host, 
"an  I  never  reach  to  pinnacle  of  Fame's  ladder, 
at  the  least  do  I  lodge  as  high  as  I  could  get : — 
a  roof  that  suits  my  empty  purse !" 

"Nay,  Kennaston/'  Peggy,  in  her  man's  gear, 
trembles  at  sound  of  that  tone,  for  'tis  Percy  who 
speaks  now,  whiles  they  all  push  pell-mell  into  her 
twin's  chambers,  strike  lights,  pull  out  candles 
from  cupboard,  stir  the  fire. 

"Nay,  Kennaston,"  says  this  one,  "while  De 
Bohun  lives  there's  ever  a  full  purse  lad,  t'  ex 
change  for  thy  empty  one, —  and  well  thou  know'st 
it." 

"Tut,  tut!"  answers  the  young  man  of  letters, 
adding  as  he  glances  about,  "'pon  my  soul,  gen 
tlemen,  my  Hebe  has  been  outdoing  herself.  Saw 
we  ever  before  in  this  room,  stools  lacking  dust? 
floor,  riff-raff?  walls  their  festoons?  hearth  it« 
ashes?  coffee-pot  its  rust?  and.  by  my  life,  the 
kettle  filled  and  steaming!" 

A  peal  of  mirth  greets  this  nimble  sally,  as  the 
57 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

host  pulls  from  the  table  drawer  a  pack  of  cards 
and  his  guests  from  their  pockets  a  dozen  bottles 
of  Falernian. 

"Dead  broke,  am  I,  My  Lords  and  Gentlemen," 
says  he,  "but  here's  the  whole  Court  and  the 
deuce,"  flinging  the  pack  in  the  midst  of  his  guests, 
"play  away  an  ye've  a  shilling  left  amongst  ye. 
Let  it  be  Commerce  or  Hazard;  I'll  hold  the 
counters ;  fill  the  glasses,  as  long  as  there's  a  drop 
to  pour;  keep  a  lookout  for  sharpers,"  laughing, 
"and  thank  God  I've  even  a  garret  wherein  to  wel 
come  men  of  vogue  like  yourselves !" 

A  burst  of  applause  follows  this;  plumed  hats 
are  tossed  aside,  wrist-frills  upturned;  His  Grace 
of  Escombe  is  shuffling  the  pack ;  Sir  Percy  stands 
with  his  back  to  the  fire,  coat-skirts  held  from  the 
cheerful  blaze  he's  made;  stools  are  drawn  up; 
the  host  takes  his  silk  kerchief  from  his  throat 
and  polishes  the  mugs.  Chockey  has  her  eye  glued 
to  a  chink  in  the  cover  that  divides  her  loft  from 
the  scene  of  revelry  below; — when,  a  bold  knock 
sounds  at  the  door,  and  the  master  with  a  cheery : 

"Come  along !"  throws  wide  the  portal. 


58 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

The  fine  gentleman  who  stands  before  him 
makes  a  profound  bow,  to  which  he  responds  with 
one  not  lees  magnificent. 

"Allow  me,  Lord  Kennaston  of  Kennaston,  since 
it  is,  I  am  persuaded,  the  brother  of  Lady  Peggy 
Burgoyne  whom  I  have  the  pleasure  of  address 
ing — ?"  and  at  her  name,  Sir  Percy  lets  his 
brocaded  skirts  flop  and  starts  forward  eagerly — 
"of  addressing,  to  present  to  you  this  note 
in  the  hand-writing  of  Your  Lordship's  adorable 
sister,  the  which  she  gave  me,  wherewith  to  present 
and  commend  me  to  Your  Lordship's  good  offices 
while  I  am  up  in  town!" 

Another  salaam  given  and  returned,  while  Ken 
naston,  with  grace,  ushers  his  new  acquaintance 
in,  sets  him  a  stool,  all  the  while  eye  quick-perus 
ing  Lady  Peggy's  scrawl. 

"Gentlemen!"  says  their  host,  "allow  me  to 
introduce  to  you,  and,  Sir,  these  gentlemen  to  you, 
Sir  Eobin  McTart  of  Robinswold,  Kent,  His  Grace 
of  Escombe,  Sir  Percy  de  Bohun,  the  Honorable 
Jack  Chalmers,  Sir  Wyatt  Lovell,"  etc.,  etc.,  etc. 
The  which  ceremony  being  concluded  amid  many 
bows  and  all  due  forms  of  mutual  delight,  the 
59 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

new-comer  was  cordially  invited  to  take  a  hand  in 
the  game. 

Now,  as  true  'twas  that  Lady  Peggy  had  never 
been  in  a  coach  until  the  morning  to  which  this 
was  evening,  so  true  was  it  that  Her  Ladyship  had 
not  a  farthing  to  her  pocket  left,  and  although  a 
good  gamester's  daughter,  she  hesitated,  making 
pretense  of  hanging  her  hat  and  of  settling  to  its 
proper  place  her  rapier,  and  pinching  her  ruffles. 
While  she  did  so,  the  rest  chatting,  Sir  Percy 
crossed  the  room,  and,  in  a  tone  that  was  not 
heard  save  by  the  one  he  addressed,  said  to  Ken- 
naston : 

"As  I  live,  Sir,  now'i  ^iy  chance;  I'll  pick  a 
quarrel  with  this  jackanapes  that's  dared  to  oust 
me  from  Peggy's  heart.  Aye,  will  I!  the  sooner 
the  better;  blood'll  spill,  Kennaston,  or  ever  that 
puppet  and  I  are  thirty  minutes  older !  Mark  me ! 
Your  sister  shall  know  and  hear  I'm  willing  to  die 
for  her  sake,  or — to  kill !" 

Peggy,  meantime,  in  this  second,  got  her  cour 
age  well  screwed  up,  and,  with  a  laugh,  fitly  dis 
guising  her  voice,  said  she,  seating  herself  with 
her  legs  well  under  the  table — for,  at  this  particu- 
60 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

lar  juncture,  Her  Ladyship,  looking  down,  had 
beheld  with  dismay  the  womanish  and  forgotten 
fashion  of  her  shoes. 

"Kot  me  !  Gentlemen,  your  humble  servant's  fresh 
from  Will's,  where,  Jpon  my  life !  such  an  apt  com 
pany  of  wits  and  beaux  encountered  I,  as  swept 
my  pockets  clean  and  left  me  not  the  jingle  of  a 
shilling  wherewith  to  bless  myself.  Your  Grace, 
My  Lords,  Sirs,  and  Gentlemen,"  quoth  Peggy 
with  a  fine  inclusive  wave  of  her  hand,  "will,  I'm 
sure,  thus  excuse  me  from  the  game  to-night." 

But  she  had  counted  without  either  host  or 
guests,  for  all  of  these  save  Sir  Percy  de  Bohun 
on  the  instant  pulled  purses  out  anC  tendered 
them,  crying,  as  with  a  single  voice, — 

"Fie!  Fie!  Sir  Robin!  Are  we  highwaymen? 
tricksters?  Honor  us  by  using  our  sovereigns  as 
they  were  your  own,  eh,  Sir  Percy,  have  we  not 
the  right  of  the  matter?"  asked  Jack  Chalmers, 
turning  to  the  tall  young  man,  who,  having  crossed 
the  room  again,  now  stood  leaning  moodily  against 
the  chimney-piece,  frowning,  tapping  hearth  with 
heel  in  too  evident  impatience  of  the  subject  of 
discussion. 

61 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

"I  humbly  ask  your  pardon,  Mr.  Chalmers,"  he 
replies,  "both  for  differing  with  you  all,  and  for 
expressing  the  same.  To  my  way  of  thinking" — 
adds  Sir  Percy,  with  deliberation,  ill-matched  by 
the  flash  of  his  eyes  as  they  take  a  scornful  meas 
ure  of  the  supposed  Sir  Eobin — "to  my  way 
of  thinking,  any  gentleman  who  carries  his 
company  into  any  other  gentleman's  cham 
bers  without  the  means  of  a  paltry  game  of 
loo  or  ecarte  in  's  pocket 's  not  quite  such  a  proper 
young  man  's  he  might  be !"  And  with  this,  Sir 
Percy  laid  his  hand  upon  his  sword  hilt,  and  Ken- 
naston  laid  his  upon  that,  attempting  to  stay  the 
torrent. 

"Tut !  tut !"  cried  this  one  and  that. 

"His  Lordship's  dead  drunk  with  Cupid,  Sir 
Robin,  mind  him  not,"  whispers  another. 

"De  Bohun  breaks  a  joke,"  exclaims  a  third,  all 
at  once. 

And  in  the  same  moment,  also,  upeprings  my 
Lady  Peggy,  hand  on  hilt  too,  and  says  she  loudly, 
same  time  as  the  rest : 

"A  pox  on  ye  for  a  libeler !  Sir  Percy  de  Bohun, 
mayhap  it's  the  errand  Your  Lordship's  up  in  town 
63 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

a-pursuing  hath  turned  Your  Lordship's  brain?" 
Here  Lady  Peggy  laughs  in  derision  and  stands  full 
height  updrawn  upon  her  girl's  red  heels. 

"Curse  me !  but  you  are  impertinent,  Sir,"  re 
sponds  Percy,  taking  a  step  forward,  his  anger 
rising  as  he  beholds  his  purpose  galloping  to  the 
goal  of  its  quick  fulfilment.  "What  then,  an  it 
please  you,  is  my  'errand  up  in  town?'  since  you 
are  thus  familiar  with  my  gaits;  tell  'em  off,  Sir 
Robin  McTart,  I  give  ye  leave !" 

"With  your  leave,  or  without  it,"  cries  Peggy 
in  a  voice  that  causes  Chockey  to  lift  the  loft- 
cover  an  inch  higher,  and  so,  kneeling  with  nose 
flattened  against  floor,  to  behold  her  mistress's  fine 
and  splendid  show  of  valor.  "I'd  have  you  hear, 
Sir,  that  to  persons  of  fashion  the  matter  of  your 
suit  near  Lady  Diana  Weston's  a  jeer  and  jest  of 
the  first  flavor, — for  'twere  easy  seen  a  lady  of  her 
quality,  Sir,  'd  not  be  a-wasting  her  time  on 
you." 

"Damme !  Sir !"  cries  Sir  Percy,  now  thoroughly 

aroused  and  far  more  in  earnest  than  ever  he  was 

at  the  beginning.    "You  lie!    Aye,  My  Lords,  Sirs, 

and  Gentlemen !  Nay,  ye  can  not  stop  my  mouth," 

63 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

unsheathing  his  rapier;  Peggy  does  likewise,  each 
pushing  and  warding  from  them  the  restraining 
hands  and  words  of  their  associates. 

"A  foul  lie !  My  errand  up  in  town,  Sir  Robin 
McTart,  is  to  try  to  drown  my  sorrows  as  I  may, 
because  the  only  lady  that  ever  I  loved  set  me  the 
pace  to  the  devil  by  a-refusing  of  my  suit  come 
Easter-day,  three  months  to  an  hour  ago." 

Lady  Peggy  flushes  under  the  coffee  stains ;  her 
arm  trembles ;  but  she  is  valiantly  happy  and  con 
fident,  and  her  heart  goes  beating  the  joyfullest 
sort  of  a  tune  beneath  the  'broidered  waistcoat 
she'd  made  for  her  twin. 

"And  her  name,"  cries  Sir  Percy  with  a  glance 
of  imperious,  aggressive  temper  shot  right  into 
Peggy's  very  face, — "he?  name's  not  Lady  Diana 
Weston,  but  'tis  Lady  Peggy  Burgoyne! — " 

Now  Chock's  whole  head  slips  leash,  and  she 
bends  with  bated  breath  and  heaving  breast  to 
listen  closer. 

Lady  Peggy  starts,  but  waving  her  rapier  over 
her  head,  laughs  loud,  long  and  derisively. 

"Lady  Peggy  Burgoyne,  Sir,"  shaking  the  hilt 
of  his  weapon  under  Peg's  nose,  repeats  Sir  Percy. 
64 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

"And  until  you,  Sir,  with  your  damnable  arts  and 
silly  bumpkin  ways,  when  she  encountered  you  in 
Kent,  had  turned  her  from  me,  she  was  to  me  kind 
est  of  ladies  and  of  loves.  Your  servant,  Sir  Robin 
McTart,"  concludes  Percy  with  a  low  bow,  stick 
ing  the  floor  with  his  rapier-point,  '%hen  and 
where  you  please !" 

"Here  and  now !"  cries  Peg,  her  heart  a-thump- 
ing  for  joy,  but  so  pleasured  and  alas !  so  puzzled 
with  the  getting  out  of  a  scrape,  which  she  has 
found  so  little  difficulty  in  getting  into,  that  she 
is  feign  on,  and  make  the  best  cut  she  can  with 
her  cloth. 

"Here  and  now!"  repeats  Her  Ladyship,  "for 
I  do  throw  back  into  Your  Lordship's  teeth  the  lie" 
— Peg  bows  low  to  her  opponent — "you  gave  me 
whiles,  and  affirm  that  for  these  many  years,  or 
ever  you,  Sir,  set  eyes  upon  her,  Lady  Peggy 
Burgoyne's  been  mine,  heart  and  soul,  Sir !" 

"Damn  you,  Sir!"  interrupts  Percy  hotly,  un 
able  to  contain  his  choler, — "to  so  defame  the 
noblest  lady  that  ever  was  born !" 

"I  repeat,"  cries  Peggy,  glowing  with  suppressed 
delight  at  her  lover's  fidelity,  and  eager  for  as 
65 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

much  more  as  he  may  have  to  vent.  "Lady  Peggy's 
eyes  are  glued  fast  of  this  face  of  mine !  Peggy's 
hands  are  my  hands!  Peggy's  lips  are  my  lips! 
Peggy's  kisses  have  ever  been  my  kisses  I" 

At  this,  Sir  Percy  tears  off  his  coat,  waistcoat, 
cravat;  flings  them  into  the  corner;  rolls  up  his 
sleeves,  while  a  confused  murmur  circulates  amid 
the  gallants  over  their  cards  and  Falernian  wine. 

"Peggy's  heart  beats  in  my  breast!"  continues 
Her  Ladyship,  ranting  and  swashing  up  and  down 
the  room;  upsetting  a  couple  of  candles  in  her 
path,  and  now  all  unrecking  of  her  womanish 
shoes.  "Gentlemen,"  panting,  smiling,  trium 
phant,  saluting  her  companions  with  her  weapon, 
"Lady  Peggy  and  I  do  so  adore,  love  and  worship 
one  another  that  we  are  not  two  but  one !" 

"Here  and  now !"  shouts  Sir  Percy.  "Off  with 
your  coat  and  ruffles,  Sir,  and  choose  any  two  of 
these  gentlemen  to  your  seconds,  Sir;  I'll  take 
who's  left !" 

Chalmers  and  Kennaston  press  forward  to  Lady 
Peggy,  while  His  Grace  of  Escombe  and  Mr.  Wyatt 
cross  to  Sir  Percy. 

"Lord  Kennaston,  I  pray  you  pace  off  the  dis- 
66 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

tance,"  says  Lady  Peggy,  now  at  the  top  of  her 
bent  and  delirious  with  joy  over  Percy's  love  of 
her,  with  no  least  intention  of  touching  him,  good 
fencer  though  she  be,  and  willing  enough — such  a 
woman  is  she — to  risk  a  prick  at  his  hands  for  sake 
of  the  after-salve  of  the  mighty  gratitude  and  pas 
sion  the  minx  is  now  sure  of. 

"Off  with  your  trappings,  Sir,"  cries  Percy. 

"That  will  I  not !"  cries  Peggy,  taking  the  first 
position  on  the  field  of  honor  in  all  the  bravery  of 
her  twin's  suit  of  gray  velvets.  "You'll  kill  me, 
an  you  do't  at  all,  with  my  clothes  on  ready  to 
my  burial,  and  I  swear  ye  all,  with  my  latest 
breath,  Lady  Peggy  and  I'll  lie  in  the  same  coffin 
when  it  comes  to  that  ceremony." 

Then  in  the  smoky  flare  from  the  dying  fire  and 
the  slovening  candles  stuck  in  their  bottles;  'mid 
the  murmur  and  succeeding  hush  of  the  gallants, 
some  with  cups,  some  with  cards  in  their  hands, 
Peggy  and  her  lover  salute  and  take  their  stands. 

Says  she:  "What's  the  word,  My  Lord?" 

Says  he :  "If  you  like,  let  Lord  Kennaston  shake 
the  dice-box;  at  the  third  throw,  Sir,  I'm  here, 
ready  food  for  your  steel  to  flesh  in !" 
67 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

"It  suits  me  well/'  answers  Peg,  as  her  twin 
rattles  the  ivories.  "Here's  for  Lady  Peggy!" 
cries  she. 

"Here's  for  Lady  Peggy  Burgoyne !"  shouts  he, 
as  Kennaston  makes  the  third  throw,  and  Chockey, 
like  to  swoon  and  she  a  stout  heart,  never-ail  or 
afeard  of  even  a  churchyard  on  the  darkest  night, 
shaking  like  an  aspen-leaf,  puts  foot  on  the  top 
rung  of  the  ladder;  and  Peg  and  Percy  thrust, 
lunge,  withdraw,  riposte,  hither,  yon,  keen-eyed, 
pitched  to  highest  note,  nerves  strung  to  crack 
ing — just  for  a  few  seconds,  shorter  time'n  it  takes 
to  set  it  down,  far. 

"A  touch,  a  hit !"  cry  all  at  once  as  a  spurt  of 
blood  darts  up  the  supposed  Sir  Eobin's  blade,  and 
Percy  bows,  declaring  himself  quite  satisfied,  as 
he  must,  though  'tis  a  state  of  mind  he's  very  re 
mote  from  enjoying. 

My  Lady  Peggy  winces  under  her  wound,  but 
she  has  not  been  Kennaston's  playfellow  for 
naught,  and  as  ugly  pricks  as  this  one  have  been 
her  portion  in  the  past;  Chockey,  nevertheless, 
from  her  nest,  pales  and  utters  a  smothered  shriek 
which  is  quite  lost  in  the  loud  talking  that  follows, 
68 


GOES      TO      TO\VN 

while  Chalmers  winds  the  kerchief  Sir  Percy  ten 
ders  about  the  wrist  of  the  wounded. 

"Now  to  the  cards,  gentlemen,"  cries  His  Grace 
of  Escombe,  pulling  out  his  purse.  "To  such  a  gal 
lant  as  our  friend  Sir  Eobin  here,  my  fingers  itch 
to  lose  ten,  twenty,  nay  as  many  pounds  as  his 
skill  can  rid  me  of ;  for  such  a  pretty  play  of  the 
steel  as  his  must  argue  a  lucky  throw  of  the 
dice." 

"Hear!  hear!  hear!"  shout  they  all,  drinking 
brimming  mugs  to  the  two  who  have  lately  fought, 
and  settling  themselves  at  the  tables  with  a  rattle 
and  a  rush  of  laughter  and  merry  humor. 

Lady  Peggy  sits,  gritting  her  teeth  at  the  slit  in 
her  white  flesh,  with  her  back  to  the  door  and, 
betwixt  the  uproar  and  clinking  and  shuffling,  she 
hears  footsteps  coming  up  the  stairs.  Some  in 
tuition  bids  her  be  the  one  to  respond  to  the  rap 
ping  that  presently  sounds  out. 

"Asking  your  pardon,"  murmurs  Her  Ladyship 
to  her  companions  as  she  quits  the  table.  When, 
as  she  opens,  a  new-caught  street  urchin  speaks 
sharp,  with  saucer  eyes  in-peering  at  the  quality. 


69 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

"An  it  please  yer  Lordships,  there's  a  fine  gen 
tlemen  below  as  his  name  is  Sir  Eobin  McTart." 

Peggy  draws  in,  bangs  the  door  in  the  boy's 
face,  squares  about,  and  says : 

"By  your  leave,  gentlemen,  a  most  particular 
nger  awaits  me  below ;  for  a  few  moments 
only,  I  crave  your  indulgence  for  my  absence.    I'll 
be  with  you  in  ten  minute?." 

"Xo!  no!  no!"  cry  they  all,  save  De  Bohun, 
who  is  counting  his  cards,  and  Sir  Wyatt  who  ex 
claim?  : 

:i  it  be  a  messenger  on  business  for  a 
fair  lady;  no,  an  it  be  otherwise.     Gadzook- 
Kobin,  make  a  half-clean  breast  of  it     Comes 
Mercury  from  Phyllis  or  from  a  mere  man  ?" 

Peg  answers:  "I  swear  to  you.  Sirs.  I  go  down 
on  bv.  :'  the  gravest  import  to  a  lady,"  and 

makes  for  the  door. 

"Pledge  her!  Pledge  her!  a  bumper!  a  bum 
per  !w  cry  they  all  in  one  voice  with  much  pleasant 
laughter. 

"Here's  to  Sir  Robin's  nameless  fair !  Zounds ! 
but  for  so  little  yeared  a  personage  to  have  two 
strings  to  his  bow !" 

70 


Wherein  Lady  Peggy  doth  encounter  her  flouted 
lover,  receiveth  a  rapier-prick:  makes  ac 
quaintance  of  her  hated  rival  and 
of  Mr.  Brummell. 

And  much  more  of  a  like  nature  reaches  Lady 
Peggy  as  she  plunges  down  the  stairs  and  pres 
ently  finds  herself,  by  the  light  of  the  lamp  of 
his  chair,  a-confronting  Sir  Robin  McTart  him 
self! 

"Nay,  nay,  Sir!  I  am  not  Kennaston  of  Ken- 
naston,"  responds  Peg,  looking  grave,  and  making 
excellent  show  of  her  blood-stained,  linen-bound 
wrist. 

"'Tis  here  he  dwells,  and,  as  I  know  well  by 
reputation,  yon  are  a  peaceful,  law-abiding  man, 
I'd  counsel  you  not  to  mount  Such  a  company 
71 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

of  cut-throat,  cut-purse  brawlers,  Sir,  as  would  not 
leave  a  farthing  in  your  pocket  or  lace  upon  your 
shirt." 

Sir  Eobin,  as  Her  Ladyship  had  shrewdly 
guessed,  drew  back  and  shivered  at  this  lively 
description. 

"Trust  me,  Sir  Bobin :  hist !"  Peg's  voice  sinks 
to  a  mere  whisper.  "I  am  Lady  Peggy's  best 
friend  and  neighbor  at  home ;  'twould  be  her  will, 
an  she  stood  here,  that  you  should  not  adventure 
your  precious  life  in  the  unseemly  crowd  with 
which  her  brother  hath  seen  fit  to  surround  him 
self." 

"Lud,  Sir!  Who  are  you,"  chatters  Sir  Eobin 
trembling  betwixt  delight  and  terror,  "that  knows 
so  well  the  temper  of  Lady  Peggy  Burgoyne's  dis 
position?  What's  your  name,  Sir?" 

"Xo  matter  for  my  name,  Sir,  I  have  Lady 
Peggy's  best  interests  at  heart,  and  yours.  She 
bade  me,  did  ever  I  encounter  you  in  evil  neigh 
borhood,  tell  you,  for  her  sake,  eschew  it.  Hark 
ye!  Sir  Eobin,  out  of  this  hole  as  fast  as  your 
men's  legs  can  carry  you.  Above  yonder,  'a  one 
who's  sworn  to  kill  you !" 
72 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

"Who's  he?"  demands  Sir  Robin,  one  foot  now 
in  his  sedan,  his  little  eyes  twinkling  both  ways 
with  fright. 

"Sir  Percy  de  Bohun,"  replies  Peg  in  a  hollow 
whisper.  "Look  you,  Sir,"  showing  her  bloody 
wrist,  "there's  a  taste  of  his  quality.  I  warn 
you — 'tis  from  Peggy's  own  self — get  back  to  Kent, 
whence  you  came,  and  tarry  not,  for  your  life's  at 
yonder  desperado's  mercy  while  you  linger  up  in 
town." 

"Is  My  Lady  Peggy  returned  to  Kent  to  her  god 
mother?"  quavers  Sir  Robin,  now  well  inside  his 
chair. 

"Nay,  Sir ;  as  her  brother  supposes,  she's  at  home 
at  Kennaston." 

"I'll  seek  her  there !"  cries  Sir  Robin,  tendering 
his  hand.  "And,  Sir,  my  humble  duty  and  grati 
tude  to  you  for  your  admirable  condescension.  I 
would  I  knew  your  name  and  station." 

"I'm  up  in  town  incognito,  Sir,  for  a  lady's 
sake,"  smiles  the  minx. 

"When  I  return,  Sir,  I'll  seek  you  out  at  White's 
or  Will's.     I  dare  be  sworn  so  fine  a  gentleman 
must  needs  be  a  buck  of  the  first  order." 
73 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

"Seek  me,  Sir,  and  Godspeed  you  down  to  Ken- 
naston  or  Kent!" 

At  the  word,  Sir  Eobin  in  his  chair  sets  forth 
a-swinging  round  the  corner,  light  of  heart  and 
bright  of  hope,  while  the  subject  and  object  of  his 
thoughts  and  passion  stands  for  a  moment  leaning, 
sighing,  betwixt  laughter  and  tears,  against  the 
door-frame. 

My  Lady  Peggy's  first  impulse  is  to  cut  and 
run ;  indeed  her  slim  legs  are  so  stretched  to  begin, 
when  the  remembrance  of  poor  Chock  in  her  garret 
cage  comes  to  her  mind,  and,  with  a  grimace,  she 
turns  in,  jumps  up  the  stairs,  and  is  in  the  midst 
of  the  group,  now  well  on  in  their  cups  and  more 
hilarious  than  orderly  in  their  conversation. 

Peg  was  not  her  father's  girl  for  naught  that 
night.  To  the  tune  of  three  hundred  pounds,  four 
teen  and  six,  was  she  the  richer,  and  rewarded  for 
the  many  dreary  evenings  she  had  spent  at  Ken- 
naston,  a-watching  her  father  win  and  lose  with 
the  Vicar  and  the  Bishop,  whenever  the  latter  came 
on  his  visits. 

By  dint  of  spilling  her  wine  deftly  under  the 
table,  she  had  emptied  as  many  mugs  as  the  best 
74 


GOES      TO       TOWN 

bibber  among  'em,  and  at  four  in  the  morning 
found  herself  the  only  one  who  was  sober,  or  even 
twake. 

'Twas  not  a  beautiful  sight  thus  to  behold,  in 
the  pale  pink  of  the  dawn,  a  dozen  or  so  of  merry 
gentlemen  a-sprawling  about  on  floor,  tables, 
chairs, — a-snoring  and  a-tossing  in  their  sleep; 
but  'twas  of  the  fashion  of  the  times  when,  to  be  a 
fine  gentleman,  one  must  be  drunk,  at  the  least, 
once  in  the  twenty-four  hours. 

All  save  Sir  Percy;  almost  at  swords'  points  he 
had  quitted  the  company  hours  before,  a  little  in 
his  cups,  but  steady  withal,  murmuring  to  himself 
as  he  fumbled  on  the  rickety  stairs — Peg,  leaning 
over  the  rail,  unseen  in  the  darkness,  womanlike 
to  watch  lest  he  trip  and  fall,  heard  him : 

"  'S death !  an  what  that  popinjay  say  be  true, 
I'll  marry  Lady  Diana  out  of  hand,  and  show  the 
minx  I'm  not  to  be  cut  out  of  a  wife  by  such  a 
flea-bitten  rotten-rod  as  Sir  Eobin  McTart!" 

"So  easy  taken  then  is  my  loss !"  says  Peggy, 
with  a  renewed  fire  of  jealousy  burning  at  her 
heart,  as  she  returns  to  the  scene  of  her  winnings. 

Sick  at  heart,  for  a  single  instant  she  surveys 
75 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

the  room,  and  then,  finger  on  lip,  it  does  not  take 
her  long  to  signal  up  to  Chockey,  motion  her  down 
with  the  calf-skin  box,  and  to  begin,  with  shamed 
face,  in  the  darkest  corner,  to  strip  off  her  man's 
attire. 

Lady  Peggy  has  laid  aside  the  yellow  wig; 
Chockey  weeping,  praying  that  they  may  get  away 
in  safety,  is  spreading  out  the  Levantine  fit  for  her 
mistress  to  jump  into  it,  when,  for  the  second 
time  within  the  twelve  hours,  Her  Ladyship's 
heart  stands  still  to  the  patter  and  thump  of  foot 
steps  climbing  the  last  flight. 

"Hold,  Chock !"  cries  she,  clapping  on  the  wig. 
"Bundle  up  my  duds,  tie  'em  tight;  so!  give  me 
it ;  pick  up  the  box,  put  on  your  cloak  and  bonnet 
and  a  bold  face ;  follow  and  ape  me.  An  you  love 
me,  Chock,  an'  I  thrust,  thrust  too!  an'  I  knock 
'em  down,  follow  suit!  I'd  sooner  die,  Chock, 
than  be  caught  now  \" 

With  which,  My  Lady  Peggy  flung  wide  the 
door,  pushed  out  the  Abigail,  drew  her  weapon, 
and,  with  a  rush,  the  two  of  them  tumbled  down 
the  stairs,  taking  on  their  way  a  giant  of  a  man 
who  struggled  and  struck  out,  and  dropped  fruits 
76 


GOES      TO      T  0  W  N 

and  flowers  and  curses,  and  yet  gave  in  to  the 
splendid  tweeks  and  pinches  which  the  lusty 
Chockey  dealt  him  on  his  arras  and  legs,  and,  fall 
ing  headlong,  on  the  lower  stairs,  darted  up  the 
street  crying: 

"Watch!"  at  the  top  of  his  lungs,  nor  getting 
any  answer,  for  Watch  was  snoring  in  the  tavern 
and  the  sun  now  shining  broad. 

"Chock,"  said  her  mistress,  "go  you  on  before 
me  to  the  King's  Arms,  where  we  alighted,  engage 
the  seats  in  the  coach,  and  hark  ye,  child,  an 
aught  betide  I  come  not,  get  you  home  without  me 
and  tell  His  Lordship  I'm  gone  to  Kent  on  a  sick- 
call  from  my  godmother.  Lud!  it's  lies  all  the 
way  to  being  a  man !  I'll  not  walk  with  you,  lass ; 
'tis  not  seemly,  and  when  I  reach  the  inn  I'll 
pretend  I  know  you  not,  hire  a  room,  change  my 
clothes  and  slip  down  to  you,  unseen  if  I  can. 
Now,  off  with  you,  quickly,  for  I  ache  to  follow. 
Would  to  God  I  could  doff  these  garments  and  into 
my  petticoats  again !"  added  Lady  Peggy  ruefully, 
glancing  at  her  hastily  tied  up  bundle  and,  at  the 
same  moment,  with  the  broad  of  her  sword, 


77 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

pushing  Chock  into  the  street  with  a  will  that  sent 
her  a-spinning  on  her  way. 

Indifferent  then,  as  though  the  outgoing  damsel 
were  no  concern  of  hers,  presently,  with  a  swagger, 
yet  ill-concealing  the  anxiety  she  felt  afresh  as 
now  sobs  and  female  voices  assailed  her  ears,  the 
mock  Sir  Robin  McTart  emerged  upon  the  street. 

There  halted  a  chair  between  the  posts.  In  the 
chair  sat  Lady  Diana  "Weston  accompanied  by  her 
woman.  Both  wept  and  trembled,  while  still  afar 
the  stout  lungs  of  the  terrified  giant  shouted: 

"Watch!" 

Peg  stood  still  and  stared ;  all  the  jealous  blood 
in  her  burned  in  her  cheeks.  Lady  Diana  here! 
and  wherefore?  and  at  such  an  untoward  hour: 
veil  displaced,  eyes  red,  but  still  most  undeniably 
handsome,  nay  beautiful. 

"Oh  Sir !"  cried  Lady  Diana  beseechingly,  rais 
ing  two  imploring  hands  outside  the  chair  door 
toward  Lady  Peggy. 

"I  pray  of  your  honor !"  whimpered  the  Abigail 
in  concert. 

"I  implore  your  protection,  Sir,  as  you  are  a 
gentleman  and  man  of  honor,  as  your  mien  dis- 
78 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

poses  me.  I  came  here  but  now  and  sent  my  foot 
man  up  to  the  rooms  of  a — a  friend,  who  is  ill, 
Sir, — with  a  token  of  regard  in  the  shape  of  fruit 
and  flowers,  when  the  man  must  have  been  set  upon 
by  thieves  and  beaten,  for  he — " 

"I  heard  him,"  finishes  Peg,  stepping  nearer  to 
the  chair.  "And  I  assure  you,  Madam,  I  put  the 
varlet  who  attacked  him  to  his  pace  with  a  prick. 
If  I  can  serve  you  further,  command  me." 

As  My  Lady  bows  low,  she  is  conscious  that  it 
now  behooves  her  to  state  concisely  her  name  and 
station;  and,  loathing  and  hating  the  deception 
more  than  she  could  express,  she  still  adds  (her 
motive  not  unmixed  with  the  natural  curiosity  to 
discover  who  is  the  object  of  Lady  Diana's  morning 
call) : 

"Sir  Eobin  McTart  of  Eobinswold,  Kent,  at 
Your  Ladyship's  service. 

Diana  bows,  blushes,  almost  ogles,  minx  that  she 
is,  noting  well  the  fine  eyes  and  beautiful  mouth 
of  the  gallant  at  her  side. 

"Lady  Diana  Weston,  Sir  Robin,  daughter  to 
the  Earl  of  Brookwood,  at  your  service." 

Peg  bows,  hat  in  hand,  bundle  under  arm.  Swift 
79 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

as  youth's  impulse  ever  is,  says  she,  taking  light 
ning-like  measure  of  her  chance  and  determined 
to  probe  matters  to  their  core : 

"Your  Ladyship's  name  was  on  the  lips  above," 
nodding  up  at  Kennaston's  windows.  "I  drank  the 
toast  with  a  will,  I  do  assure  you,  and  would 
double  it  now.  Surely,  if  you'll  allow  me  to  say 
so,  Sir  Percy  de  Bohun's  a  gentleman  of  a  rare 
good  taste,  likewise  Lord  Kennaston,  Sir  Wyatt 
Lovell,  half-a-dozen  more  a-pledging  Your  Lady 
ship  to  the  tune  of  nonpareil  all  night  long." 

"You  flatter,  Sir,  I  do  protest !"  cried  the  lady 
in  the  chair,  blushing  like  the  reddest  rose  that 
grows,  but  who  might  say  for  whose  sake?  since 
Peg  had  named  so  many. 

"Oh,  Sir,"  Lady  Diana's  voice  now  lowered. 
"Your  countenance  is  one  to  inspire  confidence.  I 
pray  you  judge  me  not  harshly  if  I  venture  to  in 
quire,  since  you  were  of  their  company,  how  fares 
poor  Sir  Percy  de  Bohun  ?  The  fruits  and  flowers 
I  fetched  were  for  him,  since  I  am  informed  he 
pines,  eats  nothing,  droops,  mopes,  and  no  longer 
is  to  be  enticed  among  the  fair.  Can  you  give 
me  news  of  him  ? — or  of — Lord  Kennaston  ?"  adds 
80 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

Lady  Diana  wilily  and  with  another  magnificent 
accession  of  color.  Thus  did  Slyboots  pursue  in 
quiry  on  that  lame  horse  which  is  named  Subter 
fuge. 

"Aye,  Madam,  that  can  I.  'Tis  as  you  say;  but 
as  you  yourself,  if  report  speak  true,  be  the  cause 
of  his  distemper,  methinks  you  should  know  how 
to  effect  the  cure.  I  see  Your  Ladyship's  man  re 
turning  ;  there  is  no  more  danger.  I  take  my  leave 
of  you,  Madam,"  hand  to  heart,  bundle  sticking 
out  under  other  arm.  "It  is  to  me  one  of  the 
most  fortunate  chances  of  life  to  have  had  this 
encounter/'  bending  sweet  eyes,  which  Diana  re 
turns  with  a  will.  "Fear  nothing !  the  cut-throats 
have  long  since  made  off  by  a  rear  alley.  The 
shouter  is  doubtless  ere  this  at  his  cover.  Did  you 
need  my  further  protection,  'twould  be  yours." 

"From  my  heart,  Sir,  I  thank  you,"  cries  Lady 
Diana  very  sweetly.  "May  we  meet  again,  and 
soon !" 

Peggy  bowing,  walks  quickly  off,  her  pretty 
teeth  gritted  together. 

"May  we  meet  again!  Never!  Fruits  and 
lowers!  forsooth!  Pines  and  droops!  forsooth! 
81 


MY      LADY      PEGUY 

'Slife !  and  how  the  minx  reddened  at  his  name. 
A-seekin'  of  him  out  like  that  at  cock-crow  too! 
Lud!  an  these  be  town  fashions  and  morals  I'll 
be  glad  to  get  home !  No  I  won't !  No  I  won't !" 
spake  out  Lady  Peggy's  heart  fit  to  burst  bonds. 
"Percy's  here,  and  my  soul's  here,  and  'tain't  no 
use  to  talk  about  having  a  spirit,  and  a-stoppin' 
lovin'  when  you  ain't  loved !  You  can't  do  it !" 

Peggy,  recking  not  of  her  path,  eyes  glued  to 
ground,  paced  on,  having  forgot  the  whole  world 
else,  in  the  misery  of  her  discovery  of  Lady 
Diana's  passion  for  Sir  Percy. 

There  were  few  abroad  at  that  early  hour. 
Some  market  wagons  leisuring  to  the  city;  an  oc 
casional  chariot  full  of  gallants  getting  home  after 
the  night's  frolic ;  and  just  now,  at  the  cross  of  two 
streets,  a  handsome  coach  thrown  open-windowed, 
with  a  gentleman,  the  very  pink  and  model  of  all 
elegance,  lolling  back  amid  the  cushions. 

By  the  lead  of  his  eyes  'twas  plainly  to  be  seen 
he  had  not  slept  for  forty-eight  hours  or  so,  but 
otherwise  his  aspect  was  as  if  newly  out  of  a  per 
fumed  bandbox.  Suddenly  his  gaze  caught  Peggy 
at  the  crossing,  fixed  itself  upon  the  lace  cravat 
82 


at  her  throat,  and  then,  with  a  spring  as  alert  as 
that  of  any  monkey  throwing  himself  out  of  tree  by 
his  tail,  this  mirror  of  fashion  thrust  his  head  out 
at  window,  jerked  his  coachman's  arm,  said  in  a 
voice  not  loud,  but  piercing: 

"Worthing,  run  down  the  young  gentleman  at 
the  crossing;  don't  hurt  him,  but  run  him  down 
an'  I'll  give  you  twenty  shillings !"  He  then  sank 
back  again  amid  the  pillows. 

oSTo  sooner  said  than  done. 

Just  at  the  instant  when  Peggy  recalled  her 
position  and  was  bewilderedly  wondering  where 
she  had  wandered  to,  clutching  her  bundle  and  all 
of  a  muddle,  click !  grazed  coach-wheels  against 
her  shins,  cock  went  her  hat  into  the  puddle,  but, 
heaven  be  praised!  her  wig  clung,  and  she  clung 
to  her  bundle ;  out  of  coach  the  pink  brocade  gen 
tleman,  down  from  the  rumble  his  footman,  pick 
up  Lady  Peggy,  hat  and  all,  rubbing  the  mud  out 
of  her  silk  stockings,  clapping  her  hands;  yet  re 
lented  she  not  from  the  bundle,  and  all  a-breath 
the  loller  cries: 

"Into  my  coach,  Sir!  I  do  humbly  crave  par 
don,  Sir,  I  do  indeed.  I'll  not  take  no  for  an 
83 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

answer,  Sir,  not  by  my  oath !  Such  a  damage  from 
one  gentleman  to  another,  Sir,  demands  all  the 
reparation  possible,  Sir,"  and  forthwith  Peggy  is 
lifted  into  the  splendid  coach  and  the  splendid 
gentleman  springs  in  after  her,  and  the  footmen 
jump  up  and  the  whip  cracks,  and  off  they  whirl 
before  she  can  open  her  mouth. 

"Mr.  Brummell  at  your  service,  Sir/'  continues 
he,  feeling  of  Peg's  palm,  noting  the  wound  at  her 
wrist,  and  the  pallor  of  her  face  which  shines 
even  though  the  coffee  stains.  "We're  en  route 
to  Peter's  Court  where  my  surgeon  shall  attend 
you.  'Slife !  Sir,  you're  not  hurt,  I'm  sure.  I  told 
Worthing  not  to  endanger  a  hair  of  your  head  and 
it's  impossible  he  should  have  disobeyed  me!" 

Peggy  hears  this  singular  string  of  speeches  and, 
although  stunned  a  bit  and  not  a  little  alarmed  in 
her  mind,  she  has  country  breeding  at  her  back 
and  such  a  robust  constitution  as  rallies  on  the 
spot. 

"I'd  be  obliged,  Mr.  Brummell,  if  you'd  set  me 
down  at  once,  Sir !  I'm  none  the  worse,  and  I've 
business  of  import  calling  me  far  hence,  and  with 
dispatch." 

84 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

"Never,  Sir,  never!"  returns  Beau  Brummell, 
with  an  impressive  wave  of  his  jeweled  hand. 
"Zounds!  Sir,  I  had  you  spilled  to  get  me  the 
pattern  and  fashion  of  tying  your  cravat  from 
you !  and  split  me !  if  I  let  you  go  until  I've  mas 
tered  that  adorable  knot !  I've  my  reputation  at 
stake,  Sir,  for  the  tying  of  'em.  You've  outdone 
me  at  your  throat,  Sir,  and  'tis  Beau  Brummell, 
the  best  dressed  and  worst  imitated  man  in  Europe, 
that  has  the  honor  of  telling  you  so.  Come,  come, 
Sir,"  continues  this  nonesuch,  famed  alike  at 
Court  and  brawl  for  his  finery  and  drollery,  "out 
with  your  name,  Sir,  I  beg,  and  render  me  your 
eternally  grateful." 

Lady  Peggy's  gaze  falls  inadvertently  on  the 
bundle  across  her  knees;  it  begins  to  bulge  and 
burst  the  paper  and  string,  indeed  a  tape  of  her 
petticoat  is  oozing  out  even  now  as  she  pokes  it 
back,  hiding  it's  tell-tale  under  the  skirt  of  her 
coat. 

"  'Slife  !"  says  Peggy  to  herself  in  a  terrible  heat. 
"An  I  must  stop  a  man,  I  must.  God's  will — or 
the  Devil's,  as  dad  says — be  done !"  and  forthwith 


85 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

she  tucks  up  her  knee,  lays  hand  on  sword-hilt, 
laughs  quite  merrily  and  answers : 

"Sir  Robin  McTart  of  Robinswold,  Kent,  at  your 
service,  Mr.  Brummell.  I  do  protest,  upon  my 
oath !  'twas  a  marvelous  device  to  spill  me  to  bor 
row  my  tie.  'Tis  yours,  Sir,  and  the  fashion  of  it, 
an  you'll  do  me  the  honor  to  accept  a  lesson." 

"Sir  Robin  McTart !"  echoes  the  Beau  delighted 
ly,  "my  old  friend  Sir  Hector's  son  and  heir?  I 
swear,  boy,  you  favor  not  your  sire.  Peace  to  his 
soul,  'twas  an  ugly  gentleman,  while  you,  Sir, — 
Zounds !  The  ladies'll  make  hay  for  you,  I  prom 
ise  you.  Where  do  you  stop  ?  Are  you  up  in  town 
long?  What  letters  do  you  bring?" 

"The  King's  Arms,  Sir,  in  the  Strand,"  replies 
Peg  glibly,  while  the  Beau  frowns.  "I'm  arrived 
but  yesterday.  I  brought  not  a  letter,  Sir.  There 
you  have  my  history." 

"No  King's  Arms  for  Sir  Hector's  son.  You'll 
home  with  me,  lad;  and  I'll  show  you  what  town 
life  is.  I'll  put  you  up  at  the  best  clubs,  introduce 
you  to  the  Prince;  present  you  at  Court;  dine, 
wine,  mount  you, — Gadzooks,  Sir  Robin,  the  man 
that  invented  that  tie  of  the  lace!"  tipping  his 
86 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

finger  at  Lady  Peggy's  home-made  cravat,  "de 
serves  all  and  more  than  Brummell  can  do  for 
him!" 

At  which  Peggy  laughed  the  more  heartily, 
as  that  she  felt  the  paper  beneath  her  coat  skirts 
crack  wider,  and  was  spent  wondering  what  she 
should  do  when  they  should  reach  Peter's  Court, 
and  when  she  might  be  able  to  get  into  her  Levan 
tine  once  again. 


VI 


In  the  which  Sir  Percy  de  Bohun's  own  man 

goes  on  his  master's  errand  to  Kennas- 

ton  Castle,  crossing  Sir  Robin 

McTart  on  the  road. 

Somewhat  later  in  the  day,  as  the  sun  peeped  in 
at  the  narrow  windows  of  Kennaston's  garret  in 
Lark  Lane,  it  shone  straight  down  upon  the  face 
of  Peg's  twin,  and  also  upon  that  of  Sir  Percy  de 
Bohun,  just  returned,  after  a  tub  and  a  grooming 
at  the  hands  of  his  faithful  man  Grigson,  who  even 
now  was  performing  like  offices  for  the  young  host. 
The  other  gentlemen  had  long  since  been  set  upon 
their  legs  and  fetched  off  to  their  homes  by  their 
men. 

Percy  held  his  chin  between  his  palms,  his  el- 
88 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

bows  resting  upon  the  table  where  cards  and 
glasses  still  littered. 

"  'Sdeath,  Kennaston,"  cries  he,  without  moving. 
"I  can  live  this  fashion  no  longer !  To  be  shot 
like  a  partridge  would  be  better.  Flouted  by 
Peggy,  derided  by  this  upstart  Sir  Robin,  who,  by 
my  life !  is  a  pretty  fellow  all  said  and  done,  is 
past  endurance !  Give  me  a  pistol,  Grigson,  and 
I'll  put  an  end  of  myself  now  and  here." 

To  this  passionate  declaration,  Kennaston  mere 
ly  makes  answer  by  lifting  an  arm  above  the  tub, 
waving  it  in  the  air,  and,  as  Grigson  scrubs  him 
down,  wagging  his  wet  head  and  remarking: 

"Don't  be  damned  ridiculous,  Percy,  and  pray 
hold  your  peace,  since  I  am  at  this  moment  com 
posing  an  ode  to  my  mistress's  smile." 

<rY"our  mistress  be  hanged,  Sir !  What  know  you 
of  love  to  sit  in  a  tub  and  make  verses  to  her  ?" 

"I  know  enough  oft,"  sighs  the  host,  "to  have 
been  in  like  case  with  yourself  any  time  this  twelve 
month  !  and  'tis  a  monstrous  thing  for  you  to  thus 
impeach  me,  when  'tis  you  whom  My  Lady  Diana 
favors  rather  than  myself." 

"Lady  Diana  be  damned!"  cries  Percy  rising. 
89 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

"She's  a  coquette,  Sir,  and  at  bottom  adores  you, 
as  does  the  fish  the  bait  the  while  she  plays  and 
sidles  'round  it,  being  sure  in  th'  end  she'll  swal 
low  it,  hook  and  all." 

"Very  fine,  i'  faith,  yet  while  I  sigh,  you're  the 
one  she  smiles  upon.  Oh,  Percy!  Had  I  but  a 
fortune !  Could  I  but  make  my  name  in  letters ! 
Then  perchance  I'd  stand  my  chance ;  but  as  'tis," 
— Peg's  twin  fetches  a  sigh  that  sends  the  water 
splashing  about  the  wine-stained  floor. 

"As  'tis,  Sir,  counsel  me,  an  you  love  me. 
Shall  I  hie  me  to  Kennaston  and  wait  upon  your 
sister?" 

"Write  her  a  letter  of  fire  and  sword,  and  blood 
and  famine;  stuff  it  full  of  oaths,  protests,  sui 
cides,  murders,  as  is  a  Christmas  pudding  of 
plums!  There's  quill,  ink  and  paper  to  your 
hand." 

"I'll  do  it  and  send  it  by  Grigson  on  my  fastest 
horse  this  day.  I  should  have  the  answer  before 
Friday?" 

"Aye,  you  should,"  allows  the  host  with  an  evi 
dent  reservation.    "Now,  for  God's  sake,  Sir,  stop 
cackling  and  let  me  finish  my  ode." 
90 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

"Which  he  did  a-sitting  in  his  bath,  while  Grig- 
son  dressed  his  wig. 

The  toilet,  and  the  letter,  and  the  poem,  were 
all  three  finished  at  once,  and,  without  more  ado, 
Sir  Percy  dispatched  his  man  with  the  missive  to 
Lady  Peggy. 

"Come  not  back  until  you  deliver  it  in  person," 
quoth  the  lover;  "an  you  show  yourself  minus  an 
answer,  I'll  ship  you  to  the  Colonies  by  the  next 
packet." 

After  seeing  him  off  the  two  young  men  repaired 
to  the  coffee-house  they  frequented,  and  there  the 
first  news  that  greeted  them  was  an  account,  ex 
aggerated  to  the  last  degree,  as  was  the  fashion  of 

those  times  as  well  as  these,  of  "Lady  D 

W 's  adventure  with  footpads  in  Lark  Lane, 

where  her  chair  crossed  en  route  to  her  mantua- 
maker's;  of  how  Sir  E n  McT 1  had  res 
cued  Her  Ladyship  and  Her  Ladyship's  Abigail 
from  the  clutches  of  these  villains  at  the  hazard  of 
his  own  life;  had,  single-handed,  put  the  whole 
gang  to  flight ;  and  this,  although  suffering  from  a 
severe  wound  in  the  right  wrist,  the  which  this  gal 
lant  young  scion  of  a  noble  name  had  received  in 
91 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

an  affair  of  honor  with  Sir  P y  de  B n  only 

that  very  night  previous."  In  point  of  fact  gossip 
cried,  and  print  set  forth,  that  "the  town  was  ring 
ing  with  the  valor  of  Sir  R n  McT 1,  whose 

fame  as  a  buck  and  man  of  fashion  was  no  less 
than  his  expertness  at  the  saving  of  Beauty  in  dis 
tress.  For  be  it  known  that  no  other  personage 

than  the  renowned  Beau  B 1  had  set  his  seal 

upon  Sir  E n's  mould  by  begging  from  him 

the  pattern  of  his  cravat  and  the  mode  of  his 

knot.     That  Sir  E n  was  now  a  guest  at  Mr. 

B 1's  home,  and,  being  up  in  town  for  the  sea 
son,  let  ladies  fair  beware  and  set  their  most  ador 
able  caps,  for  'twas  well  understood  so  fine  a  young 
gentleman  was  nowhere  else  to  be  met  with,  nor 
one  of  such  courage  and  skill  at  cards,  saddle,  or 
the  dance." 

The  which  as  he  read  it  gave  Sir  Percy  no  great 
food  for  congratulation,  but  the  rather  caused  him 
to  sink  into  a  kind  of  melancholy  from  which  no 
effort  of  his  companion  could  arouse  him.  Like  a 
dullard  he  sat,  staring  at  the  print  or  the  walls, 
the  livelong  day,  and  far  into  the  night,  waiting 
for  Grigson's  return,  and  beside  himself  with  a 
92 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

silent  jealous  fury  as  each  new  entrance  to  the 
coffee-room  gave  his  own  particular  version  of  Sir 
Robin's  vogue. 

The  real  little  Sir  Robin,  meanwhile,  on  his 
journey  down  to  Kennaston  in  search  of  My  Lady 
Peggy,  had  got  some  three  hours'  start  of  the 
faithful  Grigson,  and  even  now,  he,  for  the  first 
time  in  his  life,  stood  in  the  long,  bare  drawing- 
room  of  Kennaston  Castle,  tip-toeing  to  the  mir 
ror,  pulling  his  wig  this  way  and  that  in  instant 
expectation  of  beholding  the  object  of  his  passion, 
and  rewarding  her  for  her  devotion  to  him,  so 
manifested  in  the  person  of  the  gentlemanly  "In 
cognito"  of  his  last  night's  experience. 

Hark !  Yes,  her  footstep  on  the  stair,  the  swish 
of  female  garments,  a  halt  at  the  door.  Sir  Robin 
minced  the  length  of  the  room  and,  reaching  the 
entrance,  found  himself  face  to  face  with  Chockey ! 

"Your  mistress,  bud,  your  mistress !  Here !" 
thriftily  pressing  a  shilling  into  Chock's  palm. 
"Go  tell  her  I  am  consumed  with  impatience,  and 
eaten  up  with  desire  for  a  glimpse  of  Her  Lady 
ship's  form,  and  figure,  and  face.  Go !  Go !" 

But  Chockey  does  not  budge. 
93 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

"What  ails  the  wench?  Deaf?"  cries  Sir  Robin, 
pinching  her  arm,  for  which  he  gets  back  a  smart 
slap  on  his  cheek. 

"Tut!  tut!  What  manners  is  that,  and  you 
handsome  enough  to  kiss/'  adds  the  little  Baronet 
diplomatically.  "Come  now,  off  and  implore  Lady 
Peggy  to  hasten." 

"Her  Ladyship's  from  home,"  finally  Chockey 
says. 

"What !  Not  at  Kennaston  ?"  Sir  Eobin's  sharp 
eye  can  not  help  peering  regretfully  at  the  shilling 
Chockey  twirls  in  her  fingers. 

"In  Kent,  doubtless,  a-visiting  her  godmother, 
and  a-hoping  to  see  me  there !  eh,  in  Kent  ?" 

"I  don't  know,  Sir,"  replies  the  girl  with  a  hint 
of  tears  in  her  voice. 

"Don't  know!  What  do  you  mean?"  exclaims 
Sir  Robin  suspiciously. 

"I  means,  Sir,"  fires  up  Chock,  "that  My  Lady 
ain't  by  way  of  telling  me  her  matters.  His 
Lordship,  her  father's  down  with  his  leg;  Her 
Ladyship's  mother  is  a-visitin'  the  sick  in  York. 
As  they  supposes,  Sir,  Lady  Peggy  is  in  Kent, 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

also,  a-visitin'  the  sick,  Her  Ladyship's  god 
mother." 

Chockey  curtsies  and  turns  to  the  door,  out  of 
which  Sir  Kobin  reluctantly  goes,  putting  spurs 
to  his  horse,  dining  at  the  Mermaid  and  then  char 
tering  a  post-chaise  to  take  him,  sans  delay,  to 
Kent. 

He  crossed  but  one  traveler  on  his  way  from 
Kennaston  Castle  to  the  village  inn ;  a  man  of  stout 
and  comely  build  on  a  steed  that  took  even  Sir 
Kobin's  dull  eye,  so  was  its  blood  and  lineage 
marked  in  its  long  splendid  gait. 

This  horseman  too  pulled  rein  at  Kennaston, 
sprang  from  his  saddle,  and,  as  Bickers  hobbled 
up  to  take  his  beast,  Mr.  Grigson,  for  'twas  he, 
jumped  up  on  the  steps  and  caught  Chockey's 
apron-string  just  as  it  was  fluttering  in  the  closing 
door. 

"Hey,  missus!"  cried  he,  twirling  Chock  about 
and  chucking  her  under  the  chin,  which  was  re 
warded  by  as  smart  a  slap  as  that  which  had  erst 
while  burned  Sir  Kobin's  cheek. 

"I  must  see  Lady  Peggy  Burgoyne  on  the  spot, 
without  ceremony  or  a-waitin'  'ere  coolin'  my  heels. 
95 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

I've  a  letter  for  Her  Ladyship  meanin'  life  and 
death  to  my  master,  Sir  Percy  de  Bohun." 

"Have  you?"  says  Chock,  looking  with  admir 
ing  eyes  upon  the  smart  livery  of  Mr.  Grigson, 
dust  and  mud-stained  though  it  was. 

"Yes,  straight  from  London  town,  where  'pon 
my  life,  there's  no  sweeter  mug  than  hers  I  sees 
before  me  now !" 

"Lawk !"  cries  Chock,  appeased.  "But  my  mis 
tress  is  from  home." 

"Xot  here !  where  is  she  then  ?  A-visiting  in 
the  neighborhood?"  Mr.  Grigson  turns  on  his 
heel  and  chirrups  for  his  mount. 

"Xo,"  returns  Chockey.     "She  ain't." 

"Well,  whereabouts  is  she  ?  For  if  it's  as  far  as 
the  Injies,  Grigson's  bound  to  find  her  and  deliver 
this  love-letter!" 

"I  don't  know  where  she  is,  Sir,"  whimpers 
Chock. 

"There,  there !  Don't  be  a-cryin'  and  a-sobbin', 
Duckie,  I  ain't  gone,  yet!  Go  ask  His  Lordship 
the  address;  bring  me  a  mug  of  ale,  and  I'll  give 
you  a  kiss." 

"Drat  you,  Sir,"  cries  Chockey.  "Don't  you  be 
96 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

talkin'  like  that !"    Yet  sidles  she  quite  cozily  in 
the  encircling  arm  of  the  admirable  Grigson. 

"His  Lordship,  nor  Her  Ladyship,  nor  no  one 
else  knows  where  my  mistress  is." 

"What!  eloped?  Scuttled!  Flown  the  nest! 
When?  How?  Where?"  cries  Sir  Percy's  man 
thunder-struck.  "She  ain't  gone  with  Sir  Percy ! 
Can  it  be  with  Sir  Eobin  McTart  ?" 

Chockey  shook  her  head  vigorously. 

"Look  a-here,"  says  Mr.  Grigson,  now  regarding 
the  girl  attentively.  "Damme,  but  you  knows 
where  she  is.  Tell  me  and  I'll  give  you  two  kisses- 
and  ten  pounds  to  boot." 

"Oh,  Sir !"  cries  Chock,  pushing  away  both  kisses 
and  pounds  with  one  and  the  same  hand.  "I  doe? 
know;  leastways  I  knows  my  young  lady's  up  in 
London,  but  whereabouts  in  that  pit  of  sin  and 
willainy,  I  can't  say,  nor  who  she's  with,  nor  how 
long  she's  goin'  to  stop ;  only  she  charged  me  make 
His  Lordship  and  Her  Lady  mother  believe  she 
was  gone  to  Kent,  back  again  to  see  her  god 
mother.  There !  I've  been  bursting  to  tell  some 
one,  and  you'll  swear  you'll  keep  it  secret,  won't 
you,  Sir?" 

97 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

Grigsoii  obligingly  nods  and  caresses  Chock's 
arm. 

"Thank  the  Lord  it's  out  o'  me !"  adds  she. 

"Amen,"  ejaculates  Sir  Percy's  man  with 
fervor,  at  the  same  time  fixing  a  contemplative 
and  shrewd  eye  on  his  companion. 

"Her  Ladyship  up  in  town, — where,  with 
whom,  you  doesn't  know;  her  father  and  mother 
thinks  she's  in  Kent;  and  you're  cock-sure  she 
ain't  runned  away  with  Sir  Eobin  McTart  ?" 

"That  I  am!"  cries  the  girl,  warmly.  "Little 
squint-eyed  monster !" 

"Eh?"  exclaims  Mr.  Grigson,  who  had  beheld 
the  supposed  Sir  Eobin  at  Kennaston's  rooms  the 
night  before  last,  and  clearly  recollected  that  no 
such  description  fitted  the  slim,  elegant,  handsome 
young  buck  who  had  got  a  prick  in  the  wrist  from 
his  own  master's  rapier. 

"Monster !  I  said,"  repeats  the  girl  "Hist,  I'll 
tell  you  more,"  says  she,  drawing  close,  hand  over 
mouth.  "You've  seen  the  puppy.  He  was  here 
anon,  a-askin'  and  a-tearin'  as  to  where  My  Lady 
was!" 

Grigson  stares. 

98 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

"Aye,  you  must  have  met  him  on  the  road  not 
ten  rods  off  the  Castle  gates,  for,  as  you  galloped 
in,  the  undersized  cockatrice  cantered  out.  Lady 
Peggy  wed  with  him,  indeed!'' 

Grigson  is  now  (recalling  his  having  crossed  a 
small  squint-eyed  gentleman  as  he  came)  morally 
certain  that  Chockey  has  been  well  drilled  in  her 
part,  and  that  Lady  Peggy  has  indeed  run  away 
up  to  London  with  Sir  Robin  McTart.  So  much 
for  his  thoughts ;  he  says : 

"I  did.  Fortunately  I  beheld  the  personage 
what  you  describes.  Your  humble  servant,  missus. 
I  must  be  off  and  no  time  for  love-makin'  to-day," 
turning  quickly  on  his  heel  and  tossing  sixpence 
to  Bickers  who  holds  his  bridle  at  the  stone. 

"I  ain]t  'missus/  "  remarks  she  plaintively. 

"But  you  will  be  some  day,  lass,  or  my  name 
ain't  James  Grigson.  Here's  to  you  and  many 
thanks  for  putting  me  on  the  right  track !" 

"Tush,  Sir !  For  the  love  of  heaven  and  of  any 
body  else  you  thinks  a  deal  of,  find  my  young 
lady !" 

"Trust  me,"  flings  Mr.  Grigson  from  his  saddle. 


99 


MY      LADY      P  E  .G  G  Y 

*•!'!!  find  her  and  him  as  holds  her  in  durance 
wile !" 

Kissing  his  fingers  to  Chockey,  off  puts  Sir 
Percy's  own  man  to  the  Mermaid;  stables  his 
horse;  hires  a  fresh  one;  claps  spurs,  and  up  to 
town  as  fast  as  four  spavined  bay  legs  can  carry 
him,  firmly  convinced  that  he  has  solved  the  great 
er  portion  of  the  mystery,  and  that  his  master's 
lady  fair  is  indeed,  beyond  a  doubt,  the  bride  of  the 
gallant  Sir  Kobin,  or  mayhap  his  unwilling  pris 
oner. 


100 


VII 

In  which  is  set  down  how  My  Lady  is  whisked 

off  to  a  rout,  willy-nilly,  at  the  home 

of  her  hated  rival. 

Mr.  Bmmmell  was  a  most  shrewd  and  an  alto 
gether  kindly  personage  as  well ;  he  had  easily,  on 
alighting  from  his  carriage  and  assisting  Lady 
Peggy  to  do  the  same,  espied  the  disreputable  look 
ing  parcel  which  the  supposed  son  of  his  dear  old 
friend  vainly  tried  to  conceal;  and  the  Beau  wag 
not  long  of  putting  two  and  two  together,  and  of 
concluding  that  young  Sir  Robin  had  lost  his  all 
at  play,  and  had  even  perhaps  pawned  his  ward 
robe, — saving  the  ill-looking  bundle — for  the  price 
of  his  last  few  days'  food.  Therefore  it  was,  that, 
in  the  most  obliging  manner,  he  not  only  installed 
101 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

Sir  Robin  in  an  elegant  and  spacious  apartment, 
but  vowed  he  would  at  once  send  for  both  his  tailor 
and  perruquier  to  wait  upon  him,  and  ended  by 
assuring  his  guest  that  his  own  man  Tempers 
would  be  up  presently  to  make  the  young  gentle 
man's  toilet  for  him. 

"Your  pardon,  Sir,  Mr.  Brummell,"  quoth 
Peggy,  while  her  maiden  heart  set  off  at  such  a 
race-horse  flutter  as  it  seemed  must  never  quiet 
down.  "But,  pray  you,  remember  I  am  country- 
bred,  unused  to  town  ways,  have  never  had  a  man 
to  wait  upon  me  in  my  life"  (the  solemn  truth !) 
"and  should  never  know  how  to  comport  myself  in 
such  altered  conditions." 

The  Beau  shrugged  his  shoulders  in  the  French 
fashion,  lifted  his  eyebrows,  thought  'twas  amaz~ 
ing  strange  that  Sir  Hector's  son  should  have  been 
so  ill  educated ;  said : 

"Your  pleasure,  Sir,  whilst  under  my  roof,  shall 
be  mine ;  nor  can  I  misdoubt  but  that  one  who  has 
had  the  genius  to  invent  that  tie  is  amplj-  able  to 
array  and  perfume  himself,  even  to  the  dressing 
of  his  own  wig." 

"You  flatter,  Sir,  I  protest!"  answered  the 
102 


GOES      TO      TOWN" 

guest.  "I  await  with  impatience  the  moment 
when,  in  cleaner  case,  I  may  have  the  honor  of 
instructing  you  in  the  intricacies  of  the  knot  you 
are  good  enough  to  admire." 

With  any  number  of  bows,  the  distinguished 
host  closed  the  door,  and  My  Lady  Peggy  was 
left  to  herself. 

For  a  moment  she  stood  quite  still,  her  heart  yet 
a-clapping  madly  in  her  bosom,  her  eyes  wander 
ing  about  the  princely  room  in  which  she  found 
herself,  and  at  last  resting  on  the  mirror  wherein 
was  reflected  her  own  slim  figure,  tricked  out  in 
Kennaston's  suit  of  gray  velvets,  and  in  the  yel 
low  wig,  which  was  indeed  the  counterpart  of  the 
real  Sir  Robin's  pate.  Her  countenance? — sure 
none  would  recognize  it  since  neither  twin  nor 
quondam  suitor  had — was  dark  with  the  coffee* 
stains ;  her  eyes  were  ringed  with  sleeplessness  and 
unaccustomed  wine;  her  general  aspect  that  of  a 
young  gentleman  very  much  the  worse  for  what 
ever  his  most  recent  experiences  might  have  been. 

Peg  laughed,  then  she  cried,  then  ran  to  the 
door  and  fastened  it  securely;  then  untied  her 
bundle  when  out  fell  night-rail,  green  hood  and 
103 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

kerchief,  powder,  patch-box,  lavender,  musk,  pins, 
needles,  red  silken  hose,  Levantine  gown,  and  veil 
of  Brussels  lace.  She  shook  the  skirt  out  of  its 
wrinkles,  laid  off  her  wig  and  'broidered  waist 
coat  ;  unpinned  her  long  plaited  hair  from  its  coil, 
and  was  stoutly  making  up  her  mind  to  brave  all, 
get  into  her  petticoats,  and  confess  everything  to 
Mr.  Brummell.  But,  as  she  was  about  to  wash 
the  dark  stains  from  her  face,  comes  there  a  "rap- 
a-tap"  at  the  door,  and  Peg,  dropping  the  ewer, 
calls  out  fiercely : 

"Who's  there?" 

"An  it  please  you,  Sir  Robin,  Mr.  Brummell 
bids  me  say  to  you  that  Mr.  Chalk,  the  tailor,  a 
person  of  the  best  fashion,  will  have  the  honor  of 
waiting  upon  you  for  your  measurements  in  a  quar 
ter  of  an  hour,  if  you'll  be  pleased  to  see  him  then, 
or  later?" 

Peg  hesitated ;  there  was  a  battle  fought  within 
her  those  sixty  seconds  wherein  all  that  was  noblest 
and  best  struggled  and  strove  to  know  which  was 
the  right  thing  to  do ;  nor  could  she  determine,  save 
that,  at  second  thought  of  confiding  her  sex  to  Mr. 
Brummell,  it  appeared  to  her  she  could  not. 
104 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

"I  shall  be  ready  to  see  Chalk,  I  thank  you,  in 
fifteen  minutes,  more  or  less,"  humming  a  tune 
with  elaborate  carelessness,  rolling  up  the  Levan 
tine,  the  hood,  veil,  and  night-rail  into  a  ball,  and 
pitching  them  into  the  chest  of  drawers ;  disposing 
the  powder  and  perfumes  and  pins  on  the  dressing- 
table;  throwing  the  needles  and  patches  into  the 
fire;  untying  the  kerchief  and  taking  out  soap, 
scissors,  brushes. 

"  'Tis  clear  as  water,  I'm  to  be  a  man  yet 
awhile,"  whispered  she.  "Heaven  grant  it  may  not 
be  long!  So!"  seizing  the  scissors  and  shaking 
out  the  locks.  "Snip!  clip,  and  away  with  you! 
that  I  was  once  vain  of,  because  a  vile  deceiver 
named  Percy  vowed  he  loved  you !" 

And  off  came  Peg's  hair,  the  which  for  silly 
liking  of  she  stuffed  into  the  drawer  beside  the 
Levantine  and  let  fall  a  tear  or  two.  Then  snip, 
clip  again  as  she  had  often  done  for  her  twin;  so 
that,  in  no  time  at  all,  her  head,  with  its  short 
curly  locks  brushed  back  at  this  side  and  that  of 
her  broad  forehead,  had  all  the  aspect  of  a  man's. 

"There,"  cried  she,  sweeping  the  last  litter  of 
her  black  tresses  into  the  flames.  "An  I  be  a  gen- 
105 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

ileman,  I'll  be  a  gallant  one.  I  sighed  once  to 
taste  the  sweets  of  bein'  of  t'other  sex  for  only 
one-half  an  hour. — Zounds !  as  daddy'd  say,  would 
that  I'd  never  quit  my  frocks.  What  hath  it  bet 
tered  me?  To  behold  with  mine  own  eyes  the 
charms  of  her  who's  routed  me  from  his  heart; 
to  hear  him  a-pledgin'  me  just  to  please  my  broth 
er,  and  for  the  sake  of  spitin'  Sir  Eobin  McTart : 
to  get  myself  into  a  position  that  makes  me  burst- 
in'  with  shame  and  feelin'  sure  I  can  never  hold 
up  my  head  again  in  this  world.  Me,  that's  always 
loathed  a  hoyden !  and  even  have  I  the  muscle  of  a 
lad,  and  can  I  stride  a  horse,  and  jump  any  ditch 
was  ever  dug, — yet,  yet, — oh!  How  did  I  ever 
bring  myself  to  put  on  these?"  And  My  Lady 
Peggy  slaps  her  breeches  with  a  whack,  and 
promptly  falls  upon  her  knees  a-praying  for  her 
father  and  mother,  and  brother,  and  Sir  Percy, 
and  Chock,  and  Bickers. 

"And,  Oh  God,  high  up  in  Heaven,  forgive  me 
for  all  my  wilfulness  and  jealousy  and  foolhardi- 
ness,  and  stealin'  my  twin's  clothes;  and  deceit, 
the  which  has  got  me  into  this  foul  station, 
wherein  I  have  told  naught  but  lies — and  I  do 
106 


despise  lies, — they  are  most  disgustin*  and  utterly 
wicked.  Forgive  me  for  all  the  horrible  sins  I've 
committed — " 

Footsteps  now  resound  in  the  corridor  and  the 
voice  of  Mr.  Bmmmell's  own  man  says  blandly : 

''This  way,  Mr.  Chalk/'  as  he  raps  gently  at  the 
door. 

" — And  for  all  those  I  shall  have  to  commit!" 
concludes  Her  Ladyship,  as  she  springs  to  her  feet 
and  unfastens  the  door,  admitting  the  tailor  a 
la  mode. 

That  night,  the  suit  of  grays  well  brushed,  her 
wig  re-curled,  and  her  pocket-napkin  richly  per 
fumed,  her  mother's  Brussels  veil  stripped  up  and 
made  into  a  cravat  of  so  ravishing  a  device  as 
caused  her  host  almost  a  spasm  when  he  beheld 
it,  Sir  Robin  McTart  sat  at  honor-place  at  dinner, 

and  was,  to  make  a  long  story  short,  the  cynosure 

• 

and  toast  of  the  occasion. 

The  duel  with  Sir  Percy,  the  rescue  of  My  Lady 
Diana,  the  invention  of  a  cravat,  the  nimble  wit, 
the  handsome  face,  soon  bespoke  Peggy  into  a 
favor,  that,  considering  all  other  things,  was  well- 
nigh  incredible;  and  when,  the  following  day,  she 
107 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

appeared  in  one  of  the  suits  Mr.  Chalk  had  made, 
with  a  dash  of  powder  on  her  wig  and  a  bronzed 
complexion  due  to  surreptitious  purchase  at  the 
players'  cosmetic  shop  in  Drury  Lane,  of  sundry 
brown,  red,  and  black  pastes  while  making  feint 
of  being  a  comedian,  the  satisfaction  of  her  host 
was  unbounded. 

"Bobin,  my  boy,"  said  this  one,  with  a  side- 
glance  at  his  guest,  "an  you're  a  bit  short  of 
money,  I'll  put  a  few  hundreds  to  your  account  at 
my  banker's.  Young  gentlemen  will  be  wild  and 
spendthrift  at  times ;  London's  new  to  you  I  fancy, 
and—" 

"I  thank  you,  Mr.  Brummell,  from  my  heart," 
returned  Peg,  "but  I've  three  hundred  pounds  now 
idle  in  my  pocket.  That  will  last  me,  I'm  confi 
dent,  until  I  reach  home,  and,  by  your  leave,  I'm 
thinking  I'll  quit  town  this  evening." 

But  Mr.  Brummell  has  no  ears  for  any  such 
scheme.  The  Beau's  erratic  fancy  has  not  been 
caught  by  a  new  object  for  the  mere  sake  of  losing 
it;  his  joy  in  the  dash  and  buoyancy,  the  original 
ity  and  naivete  of  his  latest  discovery  is  genuine, 


108 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

and  no  argument,  of  the  very  few  Lady  Peggy  can 
offer,  but  he  breaks  down  at  once. 

"Zounds,  Sir !  Are  you  a  fool,  Sir  ?  Your  sire 
was  not  one  before  you.  To  have  half  London  a- 
talkin'  about  you ;  all  the  prints  a-chronicling  your 
movements ;  all  the  ladies  a-dying  for  a  glimpse  of 
you,  and  you  only  up  in  town  these  few  days ;  and 
a-proposing  to  go  back  and  bury  your  talents  for 
tying  Brussels,  in  Kent !  Fie  upon  you,  Sir !  I 
listen  to  no  such  whims.  Here's  my  basket  loaded 
with  invitations  for  you  already.  Lady  Brook- 
wood's  rout  to-night !"  with  a  sly  glance  at  Peg's 
really  blushing  face ;  "Lady  Diana  Weston's  moth 
er,  as  you  are  doubtless  aware  ?  The  Charity  Bazaar 
at  Selwyn's  to-morrow ;  dinner  at  Holland  House ; 
Almacks's,  and  my  own  little  plan  for  next  Thurs 
day  which  is  an  outing  to  my  seat  in  Surrey  a- 
horseback;  dinner,  bowls,  a  look  over  the  stables, 
and  home  by  the  light  o'  the  moon.  'Back  to  Kent/ 
forsooth !  No,  Sir,  not  yet." 

A  few  hours  later,  as  Lady  Peggy  got  into  her 
magnificent  suit  of  crimson  satin,  gold  embroid 
ered;  as  she  beheld  her  image  in  the  glass  and 
caught  the  hilt  of  her  sword  in  her  hand,  the  blood 
109 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

that  surged  over  her  face  and  throat  was  ruby-red ; 
and,  at  her  wits'  ends  for  what  to  do,  the  girl's  tears 
forced  themselves  to  her  eyes  once  again. 

She  was  to  be  off  soon  to  Lady  Brookwood's ;  here 
she  should  encounter  not  only  Lady  Diana,  but 
doubtless  Percy  himself ;  mayhap  Kennaston,  if  he 
had  been  able  to  get  him  a  decent  coat  to  wear  in 
place  of  the  gray  velvets !  Doubtless,  too,  all  those 
others  she  had  met  in  Lark  Lane. 

For  the  hundredth  time  she  cast  wildly  about  in 
her  mind  as  to  how  she  could,  now  at  this  present 
moment,  rid  herself  of  the  hated  disguise,  get  into 
her  Levantine,  get  home  to  her  mother's  arms,  hide 
her  head  forever,  and  never,  no  never!  look  into 
face  of  man  again ! 

But  Peggy  saw  no  road.  Every  path  seemed 
barred,  save  those  that  would  forever  damn  her  in 
the  eyes  of  foes  and  friends  alike. 

"Oh,"  cried  she  in  desperation.  "How  easy  'tis 
to  get  into  breeches,  a  coat,  a  waist-coat,  and  a  wig, 
but  God  ha'  mercy !  will  I  ever  be  able  to  get  out 
of 'em?" 

It  is  to  be  put  down  to  the  credit  of  My  Lady 
Peggy's  up-bringing  in  the  country  with  most 
110 


ft* 

V 


GOES      TO      TOWN1 

times  only  a  lad  for  her  playmate,  that  now  shebore 
herself  with  not  only  a  fine  ease  and  grace,  but  also 
with  as  splendid  a  swagger  and  daring  as  any 
young  macaroni  that  carried  a  sword. 

"An  I'm  to  be  a  man,  I'll  be  one!"  cried  she, 
"and  if  Lady  Diana  ogles,  lud !  I'll  give  as  good  as 
she  sends.  Little  him  as  I  love'll  know,  'tis  of  his 
sometime  Peggy  he'll  be  jealous !" 

So  it  was  with  a  prodigious  fine  flutter  of  her 
napkin  and  a  mightily  impudent  twirl  of  her  eye 
glass  (purchased  not  two  hours  since),  that  Her 
Ladyship  made  her  bows  and  kissed  the  finger-tips 
of  Lady  Brookwood's  handsome  daughter. 

"I  am  your  most  grateful,  Sir  Eobin !"  cried  this 
one,  "and  more  pleased  than  I  can  express  to  wel 
come  you.  I  only  regret  that  Lord  Brookwood  is  at 
Brookwood  Hall,  and  not  here  to  thank  you  for 
rescuing  his  daughter."  And  so  forth  and  on,  with 
presentations  to  a  dozen  of  fine  ladies,  do  wagers  and 
damsels,  and  a  precious  lot  of  fine  gentlemen;" and 
it  seemed  to  Peggy,  in  her  simplicity,  as  if  the  whole 
of  Mayfair  were  a-bowing  and  scraping  and  mak 
ing  her  out  a  hero, — which  indeed  was  not  far  off 
the  fact. 

Ul 


Two  watched  her  as  she  came  in  on  Beau  Bruin- 
mell's  arm.  These  were  Sir  Percy  and  Kennaston : 
one  green  with  anxiety  for  Grigson's  return  from 
his  errand,  jumping  at  every  sound;  having  left 
word  both  at  Lark  Lane,  his  coffee-house,  as  well  as 
at  home  where  he  had  gone,  that  Grigson  should  re 
port  to  him  at  once  he  arrived;  the  other  green 
with  envy  of  Peggy  and  any  other  who  neared  his 
divinity,  yet  afraid  and  too  diffident  to  approach 
her  closer  than  with  the  devouring  gaze  of  his 
eyes. 

"That  damned  puppy  again !"  cries  Percy,  under 
his  breath,  as  he  surveys  Peg  in  her  satins.  "By 
Gad,  Sir,  every  lady  in  the  room's  turning  spite 
eyes  on  t'other,  your  incomparable  Diana  included, 
for  fear  he  won't  stop  and  pay  her  a  compliment.'" 

"Ah,"  sighs  the  young  poet.  "Percy,  an  you 
loved  like  me  'twould  be  bliss  to  even  gaze  upon 
your  fair.  Think  you  I  dare  make  bold  now  to 
cross  and  make  my  bow  ?" 

"Why  not?"  returns  the  other  gloomily.  "For 
give  my  humor,  Kennaston.  Truth  is,  Sir,  I'm 
mad,  mad  for  Peg,  and  my  ears  are  cracking  and 
my  brain  splitting  until  that  rascal,  Grigson,  gets 
112 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

back  with  answer  to  my  letter.  He's  been  gont 
long  enough  to  have  made  the  journey  four  times 
over !" 

"Oh,  Percy,"  returns  Peg's  twin.  "I  love  you 
as  a  brother,  an  could  I  but  physic  Your  Lady 
into  complaisance,  I'd  give  my  life  for  it.  What 
owe  I  not  to  you  ?"  adds  the  young  man  with  deep 
feeling.  "You've  fed  me,  and  zooks !  Sir,  to-night 
you've  clothed  me,  for  since  the  scurvy  knaves  that 
frightened  Lady  Di  stole  my  suit  of  grays  and  my 
sword  and  hat,  what  had  I  left  ?  Where  would  I 
be  now,  were't  not  for  you  ?" 

"Tush,  Ken,  lad,  I  love  you  for  yourself, — and 
ten  thousand  times  more  for  her  sake.  Ken,  I 
love  her  so  that  as  I  told  her,  if  Sir  Robin  were  a 
better  man  I'd  cry  off,  an  she  said  she  loved 
him." 

"What  said  she  ?" 

"Not  that  she  loved  him,  but  that  she  might," 
he  continues  with  sadness,  as  his  eyes  follow  Peg 
on  her  almost  royal  progress  about  the  drawing- 
rooms.  "'Tis  a  proper  fellow, -enough,  and  I'd 
always  heard  he  was  a  fright  and  a  coward." 

Kennaston  presently  took  heart  of  grace  and 
113 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

crossed  to  pay  his  duty  to  Lady  Diana,  who,  'twas 
plain  to  be  seen  by  every  other  than  this  bashful 
swain,  was  by  no  means  the  indifferent  to  him  she 
would  feign  play  off.  Her  color  came  and  went  as 
Kennaston,  blushing  to  match  his  lady,  ventured  to 
spout  his  ode  to  her ;  and,  leaving  the  pair  to  gallop 
on  this  pleasant  path,  Sir  Percy  at  a  distance  un 
consciously  followed  Lady  Peggy,  at  least  with  his 
gaze. 

Peggy  meantime,  denying  right  and  left  the 
story  of  her  prowess,  with  quips  and  jests  and  ogles 
of  the  fair,  still  kept  her  eye  on  Percy.  Not  yet  had 
she  seen  him  approach  Lady  Diana ;  yet  hold ! 
even  now,  catching  her  own  gaze  fixed  upon  him, 
he  turned  and  was  presently  bending  over  the  lit 
tle  beauty's  fingers. 

A  pang  shot  through  Peg's  heart,  and  the  tears 
were  like  to  force  their  way;  she  made  an  excuse 
and  left  the  long  drawing-room,  taking  refuge  in  a 
small  apartment  where  the  tables  were  ready  for 
cards.  She  sank  into  a  chair  and  buried  her  face 
in  her  hands.  The  candles  were  not  yet  lighted 
and  she  was  totally  unobserved.  Dashing  the  salt 
drops  from  her  lashes  with  her  hand, — 
114 


GOES       TO       TOWN 

"What  am  I !"  she  cried  in  her  bitterness,  "that 
I  can  not  abide  to  even  see  him  a-bending  over  her 
hand !  Ain't  you  no  spirit,  Peg  ?  No  pride  ?  He's 
not  thinking  of  you,  my  dear ;  didn't  he  say  plain, 
if  Sir  Robin  was  the  better  man  he'd  give  up  to 
him!  What  kind  of  a  suitor's  that,  Peg?  Lud! 
I'd  not  give  up  him  to  any  one,  whether  they  were 
my  betters  or  no !" 

Could  My  Lady  but  have  postponed  her  exit  for 
a  few  brief  moments  she  would  have  beheld  Sir 
Percy,  at  a  word  in  his  ear  from  a  footman,  quit 
Lady  Diana's  side  with  but  the  smallest  ceremony, 
dash  out  into  the  vestibule,  seize  with  a  vice-like 
grip  the  man  who  stood  there  pale  and  trembling, 
and  gasp  out: 

"At  last !  the  letter,  the  letter  ?" 

Grigson  shook  his  head  and  got  even  whiter. 

"No  letter  ?"  Percy  says  in  a  dazed  way. 

"Only  your  own,  Sir  Percy,"  handing  back  the 
missive.  "Her  Ladyship  was  from  home,  Sir." 

"Well,  what  of  that!  you  infernal,  damned 
rascal,  did  I  not  command  you  seek  her,  if  'twere 
at  the  other  end  of  the  world !" 

"Aye,  Sir,  and  the  quickest  way  of  settin'  about 
115 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

findin*  Her  Ladyship  was  for  me  to  get  back  to 
town,  Sir,  as  fast  as  the  cursed  beast  I  was  cheated 
into  hirin',  Sir,  would  fetch  me." 

"Speak  out,  for  God's  sake !  Is  Her  Ladyship  up 
in  London?"  asked  Sir  Percy,  actually  shaking 
with  impatience  and  astonishment. 

Grigson  nods  and  without  more  ado  proceeds  to 
give  an  exact  if  somewhat  rambling  account  of  his 
entire  experiences,  from  the  moment  he  had 
quitted  his  master  until  the  present. 

'Twere  idle  to  attempt  to  describe  Sir  Percy's 
state  of  mind.  LTp  to  now  there  had  ever  lingered 
in  his  heart  the  hope,  nay,  one  of  those  unconscious 
beliefs  men  have,  that  in  the  end  Peggy  would  be 
his.  This  news  that  Grigson  brought  crushed 
every  such  thought  from  his  brain,  but  put  in  its 
place  such  a  hatred  of  the  young  man  now  tasting 
the  sweets  of  hero-worship  (in  little),  in  the  ad 
joining  room,  as  caused  his  fingers  to  itch  for  his 
steel  and  t'other^s  flesh  to  meet  once  more,  and  to 
the  death. 

He  drew  Grigson  in  from  the  vestibule  and,  un 
observed  in  the  crush,  down  the  corridor  to  the 


116 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

darkness  of  the  card-room  where  Peggy  still  sat 
disconsolate  in  her  far-off  corner. 

She,  for  the  moment,  is  even  unconscious  that 
any  one  has  entered  until  the  voices  arrest  her  at 
tention. 

"By  Gad !"  Sir  Percy  cries  in  a  low  tone,  falling 
into  a  seat  and  clapping  his  brow.  "Up  in  Lon 
don  !  The  woman,  vowing  Sir  Robin  had  crossed 
your  entrance,  inquiring  for  Her  Ladyship !  Your 
meeting,  not  Sir  Robin,  but  an  ill-conditioned  lit 
tle  popinjay  with  squint  eyes  and  of  the  height  of 
the  dwarf  that  waits  upon  my  Lady  Brookwood?" 

"Aye,  Sir  Percy,"  returns  Grigson.  "No  more 
like  Sir  Robin,  which,  Sir,  begging  your  honor's 
parding,  is  a  very  pretty  young  nobleman,  with  a 
good  eye  and  a  proper  height." 

Sir  Percy  nods. 

"Then,"  speaking  as  if  to  himself  and  motioning 
the  man  away,  "since  she's  up  in  town  without 
her  parents'  knowledge  and  with  a  cock-and-bull 
story  stuck  into  her  Abigail's  mouth,  it  must  be 
she's  eloped  with  the  scoundrel  out  of  Kent !" 

Grigson   going,  ventures  to  ask:     "Any  more 


117 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

h'orders,  Sir  Percy?    Will  I  cover  the  town,  all 
the  inns  and  taverns,  Sir  ?" 

The  young  man  shakes  his  head  and  the  servant 
bows  himself  away. 


118 


VIII 

Wherein  Lady  Peggy  picks  a  very  pretty  quar 
rel  with   her  presumed  rival:  and  is 
later  bid  to  Beau  BrummelVs 
levee  in  her  night  rail. 

At  this  precise  moment  Lady  Peggy,  scarce  able 
to  contain  herself  longer  and,  reckless  of  every  pos 
sible  consequence,  being  about  to  cast  herself  upon 
her  quondam  lover's  protection,  and  to  be  rid  for 
ever  of  being  a  man,  is  stopped  short  of  her  pur 
pose  by  the  words  that  now  fall  slowly  from  the 
young  man's  lips. 

"To  deceive!  to  lie!  to  scheme!  and  plot,  and 

bring  shame  and  trouble  upon  her  father  and 

mother!     Gad's    life!"     Sir    Percy    brings    his 

clenched  hand  down  with  a  thump  upon  the  card- 

119 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

table.  "I  had  never  believed  that  of  Peggy !  I'd 
have  felled  him  that  had  hinted  she  could  even 
plan  a  lie,  or  run  off  to  a  secret  marriage  with  the 
best  man  that  lives." 

At  which  speech  My  Lady's  color  burned  as 
never  before  since  she  was  born,  and  her  choler 
rose  at  the  double  charge,  both  the  one  that  was 
true  as  to  her  deceit,  and  the  one  that  was  not  as 
to  her  secret  nuptials. 

Palpitating  with  rage  and  wounded  sensibility, 
with  remorse  and  wretchedness;  brought  to  bay 
with  a  situation  she  could  not  endure,  Peg  now 
utterly  forgot  her  breeches  or  her  shame  at  these, 
and,  stepping  boldly  forth  into  the  small  circle  of 
light  shed  in  at  the  doorway,  from  the  candles  in 
the  corridor,  she  saluted  Sir  Percy  and  spoke : 

"I  bid  you  good-evening,  Sir  Percy  de  Bohun, 
and,  having  had  either  the  good,  or  the  ill  fortune 
to  unintentionally  overhear  your  remarks  concern 
ing  Lady  Peggy  Burgoyne,  I  feel  it  my  duty  and 
pleasure  alike  to  defend  her  from  the  unjust  and 
unworthy  attack  which  you,  Sir,  have  just  been 
pleased  to  make." 

"Sir  Robin  McTart !"  exclaims  Percy,  with  a 
120 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

start  and  in  a  prodigious  anger.  "I  deny  your 
charges,  Sir,  and  would  remind  you  that  eaves 
droppers  are  ever  the  cumberers  of  dangerous 
ground." 

"Sir !"  responds  Lady  Peggy,  her  temper  rising 
the  more  at  the  sense  of  the  injustice  and  falseness 
of  her  whole  tenure.  "You  coupled  just  now  the 
name  of  a  lady  with  that  of  Sir  Robin  McTart.  I 
demand  how  you  dare  to  assume  such  a  responsi 
bility,  Sir,  until  at  least  either  the  lady  in  ques 
tion,  or  I,  gives  you  our  confidence,  or  our  leave." 

"  'Our*  forsooth  !  'Our !'  "  comes  fiercely  from 
between  Sir  Percy's  clenched  teeth,  while  his  hand 
flies  to  his  sword-hilt. 

"Why  the  devil,  Sir — an  you've  been  so  lucky 
as  win  the  lady  for  your  bride — make  off  with  her 
i'  the  dark,  shut  her  up  in  some  unfindable  hole  ? 
cheat  her  parents,  and  go  strutting  like  some  vain 
peacock  up  and  down  other  ladies'  drawing-rooms  ? 
Be  a  man,  Sir,  and  publish  your  triumph  broad 
cast,  nor  let  the  town  presently  go  gossiping  and 
countryside  wagging  with  the  scandal  of  an  elope 
ment  !  Zounds !  Sir  Robin  McTart,  that !"  flipping 
a  stray  card  from  the  table  almost  in  Her  Lady- 
121 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

gEip's  face,  "for  your  gallantry  and  your  honor  P 

"What  do  you  mean,  Sir?"  cries  Peggy,  struck 
with  horror  all  a-heap,  and  with  terror  as  well,  yet 
keeping  up  a  brave  show  with  her  drawn  rapier 
and  sparkling  eyes. 

"Whatever  you  damned  please,  Sir,"  returns 
Percy,  now  white-heat  too,  and  most  reckless  of 
time  or  place. 

"I've  too  much  regard  for  Lady  Peggy,  Sir,  not 
to  postpone  the  climax  of  this  matter  until  our 
next  meeting,  let  it  be  when  you  see  fit !"  cries  Peg 
with  woman's  wit  and  wisdom  too. 

"  'Slife,  Sir,  I  ask  you  as  one  gentleman  to  an 
other,  nay,  I  implore  it  of  you,"  cries  Sir  Percy, 
rent  betwixt  choler,  love  and  apprehension,  "most 
humbly,  is  Lady  Peggy  your  wife?" 

Her  Ladyship  was  now  like  to  laugh,  so  near 
akin  are  mirth  and  sorrow,  but  she  replied  very 
loftily: 

"I  decline  to  discuss  the  matter,  Sir,  and  would 
remind  you  that  report  hath  your  attentions  en 
gaged  in  quite  another  direction." 

"You  know  where  Lady  Peggy  Burgoyne  is  at 


122 


GOES      TO       TOWN 

this  moment?"  says  Sir  Percy  hotly,  determined 
to  push  his  matter  to  its  ending  this  very  night, 
and  almost  crazed  by  his  passion  and  its  balking. 

"That  I  do,  Sir,"  returns  Her  Ladyship  with  a 
covert  smile. 

"Tell  me,  or  I'll  brain  you  where  you  stand." 
Percy  makes  an  ugly  lunge  at  his  opponent  with 
his  fist,  but  merely  as  a  threat. 

"That  will  I  not,"  says  she  firmly. 

What  might  have  further  ensued  is,  at  this 
crisis,  put  out  of  the  question  by  the  entrance  of 
Kennaston,  who,  espying  Percy  the  first,  cries  out 
joyfully : 

"Percy,  Percy,  Lady  Diana  hath  given  me  leave 
to  tell  you  she  consents — " 

"Tush,  Sir !"  interrupts  Percy,  jerking  his  head 
toward  the  other  occupant  of  the  room.  "Sir  Kobin 
McTart  and  I  have  come  near  to  blows,  and  must 
fight  of  a  surety,  on  the  subject  of  your  sister,  Sir ; 
and  'tis  for  you  to  know  without  more  delay  that 
Lady  Peggy  is  up  in  London,  unknown  to  her  pa 
rents;  that  Sir  Eobin  hath  her  whereabouts  and 
absolutely  refuses  to  reveal  the  same."  Percy 


123 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

crosses  the  room,  strikes  a  tinder  and  lights  the 
candles  on  the  mantel-shelf. 

"You.  are  cursedly  badly  mistook,  gentlemen, 
both  of  you,"  says  Kennaston,  quietly  enough.  "I've 
got  a  letter  which  I  found  upon  my  table  this  very 
night,  just  come  from  my  sister  at  Kennaston," 
with  which  her  twin  pulls  My  Lady's  most  ill- 
spelled  and  crumpled  missive  from  his  pocket  and 
holds  it  up  before  the  four  astonished  eyes  that  are 
staring  at  it. 

Peggy  in  amaze  recognizes  the  letter  she  had 
written  to  her  brother  the  day  long  since  in  the 
buttery,  and  which  she  had  taken  up  to  town  in  her 
reticule  and  must  have  dropped  when  she  had  paid 
her  ill-starred  visit  to  Kennaston's  chambers  in 
Lark  Lane. 

"Frowse,  the  charwoman's  daughter,  vowed  she'd 
found  it  a-lying  in  the  entry  under  the  water-tub. 
There's  an  end  of  your  dispute,  Sirs,  I  trust," 
glancing  from  one  to  the  other.  "Come,  come,  Sir 
Percy,  and  you,  Sir  Kobin,  whom  indeed  the  letter 
you  brought  me  from  Lady  Peggy  the  other  night 
doth  most  highly  commend  to  my  good  offices, 
must  be  friends,"  taking  a  hand  of  each.  "Nor  let 
124 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

Dame  Bum  or  split  ye  asunder  with  her  lies  about 
my  little  twin's  being  up  in  town.  Gadzooks,  Sirs, 
the  child's  not  a  notion  of  a  difference  betwixt  May- 
fair  and — Drury  Lane !  I  beg  of  you,  Mr.  Brum- 
mell,"  as  this  one  now  comes  mincing  in  together 
with  Lord  Escombe,  Sir  Wyatt,  Mr.  Jack  Chalmers 
and  others  for  their  game,  "for  you've  the  graces 
I  lack  in  such  matters. — These  two  gallants  have 
had  a  difference,  and  'tis  you,  Mr.  Brummell,  can 
set  'em  straight  again." 

"Cards!  cards!  Spades,  clubs, diamonds, hearts," 
exclaims  the  Beau,  touching  the  Queen  of  Hearts 
with  the  toe  of  his  high-heeled  shoe,  as  it  lies  on 
the  floor  where  it  was  shot  from  Sir  Percy's  hand. 

"Split  me !  but  'tis  them  that  are  at  the  bottom 
of  every  quarrel,  Sirs;  whisk  me,  but  if  a  spade, 
or  a  club,  or  a  heart,  provided  it  be  a  lady's,  or  a 
diamond,  which  the  Jews  have  a  lien  on,  ain't  the 
only  causes  for  disagreement  in  this  world!" 

"Correct  as  your  own  toilet,  Sir !"  cries  Wyatt. 

"Now,  'twas  hearts  of  course,  damn  'em,  and  the 

queen  of  'em  that's  roused  both  your  tempers,  but 

for  God's  sake,  gentlemen,"  taking  now  the  hand 

of  each  which  has  slipped  clear  of  Kennaston's 

125 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

fingers,  "bethink  you,  if  the  lady,  whose  name  1 
can't  even  guess,  whom  you  both  adore,  stood  here, 
what  would  her  pleasure  be,  Eobin,  my  lad,  answer 
me,  for  of  brawling  there  can  be  none  here  and 
fighting  no  more.  Speak,  Sir !" 

"Faith!"  answered  Lady  Peggy,  with  splendid 
valor  and  a  rise  in  her  color  and  her  heels,  "to 
my  certain  knowledge  the  lady'd  have  her  name  put 
out  of  the  matter  wholly,  and  she'd  sooner  die,  Sir, 
than  have  any  fighting  over  her  preferences,  by 
either  Sir  Percy  de  Bohun  or  Sir  Eobin  McTart." 

The  which  being  taken  to  be,  by  all  present,  a 
most  prodigious  and  amazing  gentlemanlike  and 
politic  speech,  Sir  Percy  was  feign  accept,  mock- 
smile  and  bow,  while  all  the  rest  blew  their  lungs 
hollow  applauding  and  praising  his  still  hated  and 
still  suspected  rival. 

Peace  restored  outwardly,  whatever  else  raged 
in  the  breasts  of  the  two  opponents,  the  gallants 
sat  to  their  tables,  Kennaston  managing  to  whisper 
to  Sir  Percy  across  the  deal : 

"As  I  was  telling  you  when  I  entered,  Percy, 
Lady  Di  permits  me  to  let  you  know  she  consents 
to  my  dedicating  the  ode  to  her,  and  Lillie,  at  the 
126 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

oorner  of  Beauford  Buildings  in  the  Strand,  hath 
engaged  to  publish  it  at  once!" 

But  this,  Lady  Peggy,  at  a  distant  table,  engaged 
in  picquet  with  His  Grace  of  Escombe,  hears  not; 
there  rings  in  her  ears  naught  save  the  words  Ken- 
naston  uttered  when  he  came  into  the  card-room 
— "Lady  Diana  hath  given  me  leave  to  tell  you  she 
consents." 

"Consents!"  To  what  else  but  his  suit  ?  Which, 
egged  on  by  his  noble  uncle,  has  been  pushing  any 
time  these  ten  years,  since  boy  and  girl  Sir  Percy 
and  Lady  Di  had  played,  ridden,  romped,  quar 
reled  as  brother  and  sister  together. 

"Consents!" 

It  echoes  and  resounds  in  Her  Ladyship's  head 
over  and  over  again  the  night  through,  and  'tis 
quite  of  a  piece  with  her  mood  that  she  seeks  out 
Lady  Diana  when  tea  and  cakes  are  passing,  and, 
with  sly  looks,  congratulates  Her  Ladyship  on  the 
happiness  she  has  this  night  conferred  on  a  very 
gallant  gentleman  not  so  many  miles  away ! 

And  quite  in  Lady  Diana's  line  of  reasoning, 
having  heard  from  Kennaston  that  Sir  Eobin  has 
come  up  to  town  highly  commended  to  him  by  his 
127 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

sister,  and  that,  although  he  had  been  sorely  jeal 
ous  and  distraught  at  the  said  Sir  Robin's  good 
fortune  in  the  matter  of  the  rescue  of  Her  Lady 
ship,  he  still  believed  him  to  be  head  over  heels 
in  love  with  his  twin,  etc.,  etc.,  etc.,  and  so,  Her 
Ladyship  argued,  Kennaston  had  doubtless  con 
fided  to  the  said  Sir  Robin  such  tokens  of  her 
favor  as  the  said  Lady  Diana  had  that  evening 
seen  fit  to  manifest ;  never  for  a  moment  misdoubt 
ing  that  any  other  swain  was  in  the  supposed 
Robin's  mind  any  more  than  he  was  in  her  own ! 

"Consents?' 

'Twas  reverberating  in  Peg's  ears  and  a-knock- 
ing  at  her  heart  for  the  hundredth  time,  when,  re 
turned  to  the  card-room,  she  learned  that  Mr. 
Brummell  was  inviting  the  company  for  the  Thurs 
day  to  his  seat  Ivy  Dene.  'Twas  to  be  a  gentle 
men's  party  only;  out  on  horseback,  the  twenty 
miles,  leaving  the  White  Horse  at  ten  in  the  morn 
ing,  with  luncheon  en  route  at  the  Merry  Rabbit 
at  Market  Ossory ;  a  look  over  the  stables  and  pad 
docks  on  arriving  at  Ivy  Dene, — a  quiet  game, 
maybe,  and  such  a  dinner  as  only,  the  Beau  swore. 


128 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

his  country  cook  could  get  up ;  with  the  ride  back 
to  town  by  the  light  of  the  near-full  moon. 

Lady  Peggy  was  soon  made  aware  that  this  fes 
tivity  was  solely  in  her  honor,  and  succumbed  to 
it  as  cheerfully  as  she  might. 

God  keep  her !  All  the  while  staring  at  the  rib 
bon  of  her  twin's  wig,  a-longing  to  cast  her  arms 
about  his  neck  and  pray  him  cover  her  up  in  his 
wraprascal  and  fetch  her  home ;  vowing  she'd  run 
away  from  'em  all  the  next  minute,  but  where? 
How  ?  Which  way  could  it  be  done  so  that  capture, 
discovery,  and  humiliation  would  not  follow? 
Peggy  could  contrive  no  method,  and  the  girl  was 
literally  terrified  both  at  the  prospect  before  her 
and  by  the  realization  that  easy  as  it  had  been  to 
jump  into  man's  attire  'twas  well-nigh  impossible 
to  get  out  of  it  again.  Should  she  on  returning 
to  Peter's  Court  lay  off  her  satin  suit,  wig,  and 
rapier,  and  resume  her  Levantine  gown,  hood,  pet 
ticoats,  patches,  and  reticule,  how  and  of  what  hour 
of  the  day  or  night  could  she  in  safety  leave  the 
mansion  and  find  her  way  unsuspected  to  th€ 
King's  Arms  and  the  coach?  'Twould  be  out  of 
the  question;  servants  were  up  and  about  at  all 
129 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

hours,  and  were  a  woman  seen  emerging  from  hei 
room,  what  piece  of  scandal  would  not  the  next 
day  ring  from  one  end  of  the  town  to  t'other. 

With  "consents"  tattooing  in  her  brain,  My  Lady 
recklessly  put  all  the  heart  there  was  left  in  her 
into  the  present  moment,  lost  a  hundred  pounds 
to  Escombe  with  a  fine  grace;  won  five  hundred 
with  no  more  ado;  laughed,  drank  a  little  wine, 
went  home  with  her  host  at  four  in  the  morning, 
and  fell  heavily  asleep. 

At  two  of  the  afternoon  the  Beau  usually  held 
an  informal  levee  attended  by  the  more  noted  of 
the  bucks  and  macaronis  of  the  town;  vastly  en 
tertaining  half  hours,  wherein,  while  soundly  abus 
ing  the  newspapers  for  their  being  stuffed  with 
lies,  the  company  still  eagerly  devoured  ever}7  scrap 
of  gossip  they  contained ;  where  the  amount  of  frizz 
towering  above  Lady  This's  brow  was  measured 
and  scanned,  the  better  appearance  of  Lady  That 
in  the  new-fashioned  gown  discussed ;  and  the  hor 
rid  aspect  of  the  Hon.  Miss  So  and  So's  toupee  and 
her  general  resemblance  to  a  malt-sack  tied  in  the 
middle,  talked  over.  This  couplet  and  that  comedy 
were  torn  to  pieces  by  as  many  pretty  wits  as 
130 


GOES      TO      T  0  W  N 

chanced  to  be  present,  while  Tempers  dressed  his 
master's  wig  in  a  corner  and  a  footman  and  a 
negro  page  handed  chocolate  round  in  silver  trays. 

The  Beau,  himself,  reclined  on  his  great  bed 
stead  with  its  fine  tester,  a  half  dozen  of  pillows 
richly  laced  at  his  head ;  a  flowered  gown  about  his 
shoulders,  his  night-cap  on,  a  coverlet  embroidered 
by  the  Chinese  over  him,  his  snuff-box  at  hand, 
reading  aloud  from  the  damp  and  freshly  arrived 
print  whilst  Sir  Wyatt,  Lord  Escombe,  Mr.  Jack 
Chalmers,  and  a  dozen  more  sat  or  stood,  cup  in 
fingers,  'twixt  lip  and  saucer,  hearkening,  eager, 
to  the  news. 

"  'Tis  by  this  on  the  tip  of  every  tongue  in  town 

that  there  occurred  last  night  at  Lady  B d's 

rout  an  encounter  (the  second  within  a  se'ennight), 

betwixt  Sir  P y  de  B n  and  a  certain  young 

gentleman  from  Kent  whose  handsome  face,  gen 
teel  manners,  and  dashing  behavior,  have  conspired 
to  place  him  in  so  brief  a  time  at  the  very  height 
of  favor  in  society,  and  more  especially  in  the  eyes 

of  Lady  D a  W n.    It  had  been  supposed 

that  the  affair  recounted  in  these  pages  as  having 

taken  place  in  the  chambers  of  Lord  K n  of 

131 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

K n  was  on  account  solely  of  the  above  men 
tioned  adorable  young  scion  of  a  noble  house.  We 
are  in  a  position  to  assure  the  world  of  fashion 
that  such  is  not  the  case,  and  that  both  the  unfor 
tunate  disputes  betwixt  these  two  gallants  are  to 

be  laid  to  the  door  of  Lady  P y  B e,  sister 

to  Lord  K n.  Report  hath  it  that  Her  Lady 
ship  is  in  London;  rumor  contradicts  report  and 
avers  that  the  fair  one  has  not  stirred  from  home. 
The  issue  is  awaited  with  interest,  as  the  verbatim 
account  of  an  unsuspected  elopement  may  be 
looked  for  at  any  moment.  Safe  to  say  the  viva 
cious  Lady  P y  B e,  whom  the  town  hath 

never  had  the  pleasure  of  beholding,  has  succeeded 
in  stirring  Mayfair  to  its  depths  and  has  been 
the  cause  already  of  a  very  pretty  pair  of  quarrels 
between  two  young  gentlemen  of  the  first  qual- 
ity." 

"'Slife!"  cried  Beau  Brummell.  "Who  now 
the  devil's  Lady  P y?" 

"By  the  dragon,  himself,  I  never  heard  that 
Kennaston  had  a  sister !"  said  Lord  Wootton  and 
Mr.  Vane  at  once. 

"Yes!"  exclaims  Sir  Wyatt,  tapping  his  fore- 
132 


head,  recollectively,  "I  do  recall  that  Sir  Robin 
McTart,  the  night  we  were  at  Kennaston's  cham 
bers,  entered  with  the  presentation  of  a  letter  of 
introduction  from  'Lady  Peggy  Burgoyne  to  her 
brother/  end  'sdeath!  'twas,  I  believe,  she  about 
whom  they  fought,  too !" 

"Ha !  'tis  not  only  Lady  Di,  then,  that's  at  the 
bottom  of  their  quarrel  after  all,"  says  Mr.  Brum- 
mell,  reflectively. 

"Where  is  the  fair  one  ?"  asks  Escombe.  "Who 
knows  that?" 

"Faith !  no  one.  Stop !  Sir  Robin  must  know, 
since  'tis  for  her  he  unsheathes  twice  in  a  week," 
cries  the  host. 

"Where  is  he?" 

"Bring  him  in !" 

"Send  for  Sir  Robin!"  is  the  cry  of  the  com 
pany. 

"Zooks!  Sirs,  but  our  reputations  as  gallants 
are  broken  up,  an  we've  not  seen  her  of  whom  the 
prints  speak  thus !"  says  the  Beau,  adding  at  once : 

"Tempers,  my  compliments  to  Sir  Robin  Mc 
Tart,  and  beg  of  him  to  join  us,  for,  at  the  least, 
a  few  moments.  I  know  he's  averse  to  early  ris- 
133 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

ing,  but  pray  inform  him  to  skip  across  in  his 
dressing-gown  and  slippers,  and  night-cap,  we've 
no  ladies  here  about  to  ogle  him  I" 

The  which  message  being  conveyed  to  My  Lady 
Peggy  a-sitting  by  the  pulled-out  chest  of  drawers, 
mournfully  contemplating  her  long  shorn  tresses 
with  barred  door,  arouses  in  her  such  a  fever  of 
sorrow  as  well-nigh  chokes  her  utterance. 

"Say  to  Mr.  Brummell  I'm  asleep,  Tempers^ 
and  crave  to  know  his  pleasure,  the  answer  to 
which  I'll  send  as  faithfully  as  Morpheus  will 
permit,  by  you  for  Mercury !  Off  with  you !"  and 
Her  Ladyship  softly  stroked  her  locks,  and  for  the 
thousandth  time  went  planning  her  escape. 

Peels  of  laughter,  rattling  of  rapiers,  click  of 
heels,  and  now — 

"Rat-a-tat-tat-tat-tat !"  on  the  door. 

"MeTart!  McTart!  Up  with  you  from  be 
twixt  coverlets  and  into  your  Persian  quilt !" 

"Out  with  ye,  Sir  Eobin,  or  by  Gad !  Sir,  we'll 
in,  the  fifteen  of  us!  and  rout  you  up  from 
Morpheus's  arms." 

"Come,  Sir  Robin,  dally  no  longer  with  sweet 
sleep ;  up,  Sir,  and  bethink  you  of  Beauty  spelled 
134 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

with  a  P-E-G-G-Y  ! "  shouts  Sir  Wyatt,  chorused 
by  the  rest. 

At  first  clap  of  voices  Peggy  stuck  her  hair  back 
into  the  drawer,  jumped  up,  and  stood,  hand  upon 
the  dressing-table,  her  expression  like  nothing  else 
so  much  as  that  of  a  fawn  caught  in  a  thicket. 

"'Sdeath!  Gentlemen,  I  pray  of  you,  a  few 
moments  grace!"  cries  she,  trembling  from  the 
knees  down,  for  'tis  quite  of  the  temper  of  the 
manners  of  the  day  that  in  a  second  more  the 
whole  company  should  batter  down  the  mahogany 
and  burst  in. 

"Three-and-thirty,  an  you  like,  Sir  Eobin !"  says 
Escombe,  who  is  soberer  than  the  rest. 

"Give  us  the  whereabouts  of  Lady  Peggy  Bur 
goyne,"  shouts  Mr.  Chalmers,  "and  we'll  trouble 
you  no  more  'til  doomsday !" 

"Lady  Peggy  Burgoyne !" 

"Lady  Peggy  Burgoyne !" 

"Where's  Lady  Peggy  Burgoyne?" 

"Where's  Lady  Peggy  Burgoyne  ?" 

"Where  is  the  fair  one  for  whom  you  and  Sir 
Percy  de  Bohun  have  fought  with  blades  and 
tongues,  twice  now,  since  this  day  last  week  ?" 
135 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

"Lady  Peggy  Burgoyne !"  cried  they  in  hot  con 
cert,  joined  in  most  lustily  by  the  Beau  from  his 
bed  across  the  corridor,  and  accompanied  by  the 
pounding  of  fifteen  rapier  points  on  the  parquet, 
and  thirty  fists  on  the  woodwork,  as  well  as  the 
demoniacal  screams  of  the  Beau's  little  negro  and 
the  parrot  on  his  wrist. 

"Tell  us  where  she  is !"  came  high  staccato  last 
from  Sir  "Wyatt's  exhausted  lips. 

"My  Lords  and  Gentlemen!"  answers  Her 
Ladyship,  standing  close  to  the  door  enveloped 
from  top  to  toe  in  a  sheet  over  her  night-rail. 
"Would  to  God  I  could !" 

There  was  a  ring  of  heartfelt  truth  in  the  reply, 
and  its  utterance  was  succeeded  by  a  second's  sur 
prised  pause. 

The  young  bucks  regarded  each  other  with 
shrugs,  pursed  mouths,  and  interrogation  points 
bristling  in  their  eyes. 

Mr.  Chalmers,  recovered  of  his  surprise  sooner 
than  the  others,  says : 

"Do  you  mean  to  say,  Sir  Eobin,  that  the  where 
abouts  of  the  lady  with  whose  name  the  prints 
and  the  coffee-houses  are  ringing;  for  whose  sake 
136 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

you  came  near  to  fighting  Sir  Percy  only  last  night, 
and  did  fight  him  in  Lark  Lane  o'  Thursday  last, 
ain't  known  to  you  ?" 

"Is  she  in  London?"  pipes  the  Beau,  pinching 
the  little  black  till  he  squeaks  again. 

"That  I  can  not  tell,"  responds  Her  Ladyship. 
"I  do  know  she's  not  in  Kent;  and  she's  not  at 
Kennaston  Castle.  'Slife!  Sirs,"  adds  she,  "I 
pray  your  consideration.  Guess  what  you  will; 
this  matter  of  Lady  Peggy  sticks  me  closer  than 
you  dream,  and  I'd  give  my  life  to  know  her  safe 
at  home  with  her  mother." 

Silence  ensues;  the  disappointed  fifteen  get 
them  back  to  the  Beau's  bedside  to  talk  over  this 
latest  development  as  to  the  mysterious  Ladj 

Peggy. 


137 


IX 

In   the  which   Lady  Peg   overhears   a   hor 
rible  'plot  to  murder;  and  wherein 
Mr.  Incognito  encountereth 
Sir  Robin. 

She  herself  falls  into  such  an  immediate  flood 
of  tears  as  shakes  her  well,  and  then  up  she  rises 
from  her  depths,  and  with  all  the  courage  of  her 
race  and  blood,  she  vows  that,  come  another  sun 
set  she  will  quit  Peter's  Court  as  if  for  a  walk, 
and  never  return;  that  in  small  clothes,  since  it 
must  be,  she  will  journey  back  to  Kennaston 
Castle,  and  risk  all  the  discomfiture  and  disgrace 
her  doing  so  may  bring  upon  her. 

In  point  of  fact,  My  Lady  Peggy  was  at  that 
state  of  mind  when  it  seemed  to  her  no  degrada- 
13S 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

tion  or  humiliation,  no  sorrow  that  could  be  visited 
upon  her,  would  be  too  much  punishment,  or 
enough,  for  the  sins  without  number  she  had  com 
mitted  since  the  luckless  day  she  took  the  coach 
for  town. 

When  she  emerged  from  her  room  for  dinner, 
'twas  to  learn  that  Mr.  Brummell  had  been  sum 
moned  hastily  to  St.  James's  on  so  important  an 
affair  as  to  initiate  His  Eoyal  Highness  into  the 
mysteries  of  the  new  tie  of  Sir  Robin's  own  inven 
tion  !  and  that  he  trusted  in  this  audience  to  obtain 
permission  to  fetch  Sir  Robin  to  the  Palace  and 
present  him  within  a  few  days  to  several  august 
personages,  etc.,  etc.,  etc. 

Her  Ladyship,  therefore,  dined  alone,  scantily 
too ;  food  choked  her,  wine  burned  her  throat,  and 
to  speak  truth  she  was  heartily  glad  not  to  have 
to  drink  it,  for  Her  Ladyship  was  an  abstemious 
young  lady  and  believed  milk,  Bohea  and  Pekoe  the 
beverages  for  her  sex,  to  the  exclusion  of  any 
stronger. 

At  twilight,  having  made  her  duds  and  her 
tresses  up  into  a  reputable  enough  parcel,  Lady 
Peggy,  in  a  suit  of  claret  velvet,  leaving  all  the- 
139 


MY      LADY     PEGGY 

rest;  of  her  man's  attire  hanging  in  the  presses, 
sauntered  carelessly  out  of  the  house,  declining 
the  footman's  offer  of  a  chair,  or  even  a  hackney 
chaise,  or  a  page  to  carry  her  parcel,  and  set  off  at 
a  swinging  pace  across  the  square  and  toward  the 
river.  It  was  her  intention,  by  way  of  frustrating 
any  attempts  at  tracing  her  which  might  be  set 
afoot.,  the  discovery  of  her  flight  once  made,  to  so 
doutleon  her  own  tracks,  and  to  seek  out  such  un- 
imagined  and  unlikely  streets  to  traverse,  as  must 
puzzle  both  bell-man,  watch,  and  redbird  alike,  as 
well  as  her  acquaintances. 

She  swaggered  along  toward  St.  Stephen's  where 
a  coach  containing  quality  was  occasionally  met 
even  now;  then  down  Horseferry  Road,  almost  to 
the  river's  bank ;  then  along  Jackanapes  Eow,  with 
little  idea  of  the  cut-throat  locality  she  was  haunt 
ing  ;  back  again  toward  better  neighborhoods ;  then 
a  lurch  to  the  Thames  making  into  Farthing  Alley 
and  Little  Boy  Yard,  at  the  end  of  which  she 
found  herself  at  the  old  Dove  Pier. 

Peg  stood  stiil,  her  heart  beating  both  with  her 
quick  walk,  and  at  the  strangeness  of  all  that  sur 
rounded  her.      She  had  no  fenr,  because  her  arm 
140 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

was  stout,  her  aim  sure,  pistols  at  her  belt  and  a 
good  sword  at  her  side;  and  she  was  perfectly 
ignorant  of  any  harm  here  to  be  found,  greater 
than  at  the  door  of  Beau  Brummell's  house. 

The  dark  dwellings  of  the  yard  frowned  at  one 
another,  with  not  an  ell  of  sky  to  share  between 
'em  at  their  roofs ;  the  sign  of  the  "Three  Cups" 
swung  and  creaked  in  the  slow  breeze;  the  river, 
black  and  gruesome,  lapped  at  the  foot  of  the 
stone  pile  against  which  she  leaned.  On  the  river 
the  tired  bargemen  rested  at  their  oars,  and  the 
dip  of  a  water-bird  was  the  only  sound  that  struck 
upon  her  ear.  Peggy  was  casting  about  in  her 
mind  whether  to  enter  the  inn  and  inquire  her 
road  to  the  King's  Arms  in  the  Strand,  and  had 
just  turned  to  do  so,  when  in  the  cavernous  door 
way  of  one  of  the  gaunt-looking  tenements  she 
beheld  three  figures.  The  faces  of  two  were  toward 
her,  and  by  the  light  of  the  fish-oil  lamp  swinging 
at  the  next-door  tavern,  she  beheld  them>  so  sinister 
and  forbidding  as  to  cause  her  to  halt  for  a  space, 
and  then,  overcoming  her  dread,  to  pursue  her 
path,  but  slowly  and  by  crossing  the  yard. 

As  she  did  so,  her  weapon  caught  in  her  heel 
141 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

and  as  she  bent  to  disengage  it,  a  voice  speaking 
in  low  muffled  tones  arrested  her  gait. 

It  was  the  voice  of  Sir  Robin  McTart  saying : 

"If  I  make  it  ten  guineas  apiece  on  the  spot, 
you  swear  to  leave  him  cold  on  the  pier  yonder, 
come  Sunday  night,  or  to  tie  a  stone  about  his 
throat  and  throw  him  into  the  river  ?" 

"Aye,  aye,"  grunts  one  of  the  two  companions 
of  this  most  valorous  gentleman.  "  'E's  h'always 
'ulkin  'ereabouts  o'  Sunday  nights/' 

Lady  Peggy,  with  such  a  pull-string  of  terror 
at  her  heart  as  she  never  had  before,  draws  closer 
to  the  wall  of  the  tenement  before  which  she  has 
halted,  creeps  nearer  to  the  portal  wherein  these 
cavaliers  are  quartered. 

"Let  it  be  five  guineas  apiece  to-night,"  squeaks 
the  Baronet,  "and  the  remainder  when  the  business 
is  done?" 

"The  devil  knock  you  into  hell  with  your,  'when 
the  business  is  done !'  "  mutters  the  other.  "We's 
doin'  your  job  for  you  for  little  enough.  Tain't 
everyone  as'd  h'undertake  the  funeral  of  a  h'EarPs 
heir  like  Sir  Percy  de  Bohun — " 

Her  Ladyship's  like  now  to  fall  in  a  swoon ;  but 
142 


GOES      TO      TOWN" 

not  she;  only  leans  she  a  bit  against  the  bricks, 
her  bosom  heaving,  her  eyes  dilating,  her  lips  bit 
ten  in  until  they  are  almost  bleeding. 

"Hush-h-h!  no  names,  you  varlets!"  interrupts 
Sir  Robin. 

"Hey  ?"  responds  the  other,  "the  walls  ain't  got 
no  h'ears,  and  if  they  'ad  wot  I'm  a-sayin's  the 
cussid  truth,  eh,  Bloksey?" 

Bloksey  grunts. 

"The  town'll  be  afire  when  it's  out  that  a  gal 
lant  like  'im  that's  heir  to  Lord  Gower's  been  done 
fer;  and  then,  my  fine  gentleman,  who's  to  pay 
for't,  if  we's  caught  and  if  we  'appens  to  be  seen 
by  any  one  when  we're  a  doin*  of  your  job  ?  No, 
money  all  down  now,  or  Sir  Percy  lives  as  long  as 
'e  likes,  for  us !" 

Peg's  hand's  upon  the  hilt  of  her  sword. 

Shall  she  spring  and  run  Sir  Robin  through? 

Shall  she  hide  and  buy  the  rascals  out  at  a  high 
er  price  than  he  has  paid  ? 

But  no  sooner  do  these  thoughts  rush  through 
her  brain  than  the  utter  impossibility  of  compass 
ing  the  one,  or  of  performing  the  other,  unde 
tected,  if  even  with  her  life,  and  she  so  at  the  mercy 
143 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

of  these  cut-throats,  comes  to  steady  her,  and  she 
realizes  that  her  only  part  is  to  get  away  as  fast 
as  she  may,  and  unseen  if  she  can. 

Meantime  Sir  Eobin  concludes  his  bargain  with 
the  two  desperadoes,  and  as  they  withdraw  into 
their  haunt,  and  he  turns  on  his  heel,  he  espies 
Lady  Peggy  rounding  the  corner  with  her  bundle 
under  her  arm.  The  -little  Baronet  with  a  sidelong 
glance  in  at  the  hallway  to  make  sure  his  men  are 
out  of  sight,  darts  to  the  opposite  side  of  the  court 
on  tiptoe,  and  then,  putting  hands  to  mouth,  calls 
across  softly,  hut  clearly,  in  a  tone  half,  of  joy,  half 
anger. 

"Mr.  Incognito !  Mr.  Incognito !  Ho !  I  say, 
Incognito !" 

Peg  stops  short.  'Twere  wiser  perhaps  to  try 
to  discover  what  had  put  Sir  Robin  McTart  up  to 
the  murder. 

"By  Gad,  Sir!"  cries  this  one,  making  a  dash 
now  over  to  Peg's  side  of  the  way.  "Here  have  I 
scoured  the  town  for  you  day  and  night,  and  no 
trace  of  you  anywhere!  'Incognito'  me  no  more, 
Sir!  Who  are  you,  Sir?  Damme!  I'll  stand  no 
more  such  nonsense!"  Sir  Robin's  valor's  thor- 
144 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

cnighly  based  on  the  knowledge  that,  were  blade  to 
bp  unsheathed  to  his  hurt,  he  could  and  would 
shout  for  his  hirelings  to  the  rescue. 

'Twas  the  first  and  only  time  in  his  life  that  he 
was  ever  known  to  urge,  or  even  hint,  a  quarrel  in 
propria  persona. 

"I'll  'incognito'  you  to  the  end  of  the  chapter, 
Sir  Robin  McTart,"  answers  Lady  Peggy,  clapping 
hand  to  hilt. 

"Very  well,  Sir,  very  well,"  says  the  Baronet, 
reflecting  that  another  corpse  might  cost  him  ten 
guineas  more,  ere  he  were  done  with  it ;  and  besides 
yearning  for  the  news  of  His  Lady  which  he  thinks 
he  may  glean.  "I've  small  stomach  for  fightin' 
any  man.  Religion  don't  teach  us  that  lesson,  but 
"us  a  devilish  trick  you've  played  me,  Sir." 

"In  what  way,  Sir?  Out  with  it,"  replies 
Peggy. 

"You,  Sir,  sent  me  to  Kennaston  a-seeking  Lady 
Peggy  Burgoyne,  Sir;  she  was  from  home,  and 
not  a  word  else  could  I  buy  or  wring  out  of  her 
servant's  cursed  mouth.  Then  I  hied  to  Kent,  be 
lieving,  from  your  fine  messages  to  me  from  Her 
Ladyship,  that  she  must  be  there  at  her 
145 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

el's.  No,  Sir !  she  was  not ;  nor  could  any  one  tell 
but  that  she  was  at  Kennaston  Castle  for  all  they 
knew.  Back  in  town  post-haste,  I  seek  Lark  Lane, 
where  her  brother  lodges,  so  I  had  heard,  only  to 
learn  that  he  has  gone  to  stop  with  Sir  Percy  de 
Bohun,  in  Charlotte  Street." 

"Well,  you  sought  him  there?"  inquires  Peg 
quivering  with  suppressed  excitement. 

"I  did  not,  Sir!"  replies  Sir  Eobin  with  em 
phasis. 

"Thank  heaven !"  says  his  companion  fervently, 
an  exclamation  which  may  do  double  duty,  and  is 
well  taken  by  the  little  gentleman  from  Kent. 

"Xo,  Sir;  you  do  not  suppose,  Sir,  that  I'm  a- 
going  to  risk  a  life  that's  dear  to  Lady  Peggy,  at 
the  hands  of  a  ripping  brawler  and  sure-kill  like 
Sir  Percy,  do  you  ?" 

"Ah,  Sir  Kobin,"  quoth  Her  Ladyship.  "If  you 
knew  what  a  consolation  it  would  be  to  Lady  Peggy 
to  hear  of  your  unwillingness  to  hazard  your 
precious  person  in  such  company,  'twould  ease 
your  mind  and  heart." 

"Look  you!"  whispers  Sir  Eobin,  plucking  at 
Peg's  sleeve.  "But  tell  me  where  she  is?  This 
146 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

mystery  's  killing  me !  How  fares  she  ?  Does  she 
pine  for  me?  and  is  this  true?"  With  shaking 
hands  Sir  Eobin  takes  from  his  pocket  a  copy  of  a 
print  of  the  day  previous,  and  unfolding,  reads 
to  the  astonished  Peg  the  following  paragraphs. 

"Town's  talk  is  all  for  the  very  pretty  quarrel 

betwixt  Sir  P y  de  B n,  and  the  gallant  and 

handsome  Sir  R n  McT 1  of  Kent.  Tis 

all  over  Mayfair,  and  far  beyond,  that  the  cause 
of  the  dispute's  the  lovely  but  mysterious  Lady 
P yB e." 

"  'Slife !"  interrupts  Peg,  catching  at  straws. 
"You  now  perceive,  Sir  Robin,  why  'tis  that  Her 
Ladyship  must  keep  her  whereabouts  a  secret, 
even,"  she  adds  with  sentimental  deflection,  "from 
you.  Trust  me,  Sir,  as  you  would  trust  her,  and 
be  guided  by  my  counsel !" 

Sir  Robin  nods  vigorously,  fluttering  his  sheet 
with  anxious  fingers.  "Listen,  Sir,  listen,  to  this 

further."  He  reads  on.  "Sir  P y  de  B n 

has  sworn  by  all  that's  sacred,  so  'tis  said,  to  stick 

Sir  R n  McT 1  to  the  death,  and  serious 

consequences  are  feared." 

"Ah !"  cries  Lady  Peggy,  overjoyed  to  hear  any- 
147 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

thing  that  may  serve  to  keep  the  little  Baronet  and 
Sir  Percy  from  meeting.  "'Tis  a  gentleman  of 
his  word,  I  promise  yoti.  Better  get  back  at  once 
to  Robinswold,  and  let  London  and  Sir  Percy  gal 
lop  to  the  devil,  an  they  see  fit !" 

"Kay,"  replies  the  one  addressed.  "Not  I,  Sir 
Incognito.  It  is  not  for  a  McTart  to  turn  his  back 
on  danger,  but  the  rather,"  and  here  by  the  fish- 
oil  gleam,  the  little  gentleman's  squint  eyes  leer 
cunningly  up  into  Her  Ladyship's  face:  "The 
rather,"  continues  he,  glancing  cautiously  around, 
"take  measures  to  protect  myself." 

"Very  commendable  of  you,  Sir  Robin,  by  my 
faith,"  cries  Peggy,  although  she  shudders,  now 
linking  her  arm  in  her  companion's,  and  assuming 
an  air  of  easy  confidence,  by  the  which  she  hopes 
to  ensnare  him  into  a  complete  revelation  of  his 
plans. 

"Since  you  go  armed,  and  are,  I  doubt  not,  a 
master  in  the  art  of  self-defense,  what  have  you 
to  fear  from  Sir  Percy  de  Bohun  ?" 

"True,"  responds  the  Baronet,  with  a  reservation 
to  himself  and  no  mind  at  all  to  proceed  any 
further  with  his  revelations.  "Gad !  Sir,  a  fellow 
148 


GOES       TO       TOWN 

like  that,"  clutching  at  the  newspaper  stuck  among 
his  ruffles,  "ain't  to  he  trusted  as  long  as  he's 
above  the  ground.  I  swear,  Sir!  I  fear  to  walk 
abroad  and  hold  myself  housed  at  my  inn  in 
Pimlico,  close,  not  daring  to  show  my  face.  A 
ruffian  that's  publicly  printed  as  seekin'  life'd 
stick  me  in  the  back  in  the  dark,  an  he  got  the 
chance." 

"Nay,  nay,  Sir  Robin,"  says  Peg,  up  for  her 
sweetheart,  "he's  not  that  sort  of  a  gentleman — 
but,  look  you,  keep  close,  frequent  neither  club, 
coffee  or  chocolate-house,  or  rout  or  drum ;  eschew 
Yauxhall,  Richmond  and  the  play-house,  or  any 
likely  place  where  bucks  gather,  for  trust  me,  Sir, 
an  you  do  meet  Sir  Percy,  there'll  be  the  devil  to 
pay,  and  his  blade's  his  obedient  slave." 

Poor  Peg!  She  has  not  only  to  protect  Percy 
of  his  life,  but,  as  before,  to  prevent  any  discov 
ery  of  her  usurpation  of  the  little  Baronet's 
name. 

"Curse  him !  I  fear  him  not !"  responds  this 
one,  his  itching  fingers  twisting  about  the  empty 
purse  in  his  pocket. 

"But  of  Her  Ladyship,  Sir  Go-between?"  adds 
149 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

he  presently,  as  they  emerge  upon  the  broader  and 
better  lighted  road.  "  Ton  my  life,  but  to  so  find 
myself  the  hero  of  a  romantic  passion  with  the 
Lady  secluded  in  a  mystery,  a  nobleman  thirsting 
for  my  blood,  a  nameless  gentleman  playin'  ]\Ier- 
cury  betwixt  me  and  my  fair,  'tis  amazing,  Sir! 
prodigious  amazing !"  Sir  Robin  struts  and  takes 
snuff  very  comfortably,  since  he  has  got  out  of 
a  very  dangerous  environment 

Peg's  soul  sickens  within  her  as  she  listens  to 
him. 

"Tell  me  now,  how  fares  she  ?" 

"Not  so  well,"  answers  she. 

"You've  seen  her  ?" 

"Not  I." 

"Are  like  to?" 

"No,  Sir." 

"You  can  convey  messages  to  her  by  some  fond 
way  she's  planned  to  get  her  news  of  me,  eh  ?" 

"I  can,  Sir  Eobin." 

"Sir,  whoever  you  are,  for  pity's  sake,  tell  me 
where  is  she?" 

"Not  far,  Sir." 

"Gad,  Sir,  to  touch  her  hand,  her  cheek! 
150 


GOES    TO    TO  W X 

You're  in  her  sure  confidence  ?  She  does  favor 
me  ?  She  will  not  give  me  hopes,  Sir,  to  turn 
around  and  break  my  heart  by  marryin'  of  an 
other  ?" 

"Lady  Peggy '11  never  marry  any  man,  Sir  Robin, 
I'm  of  the  opinion,  so  I'd  not  give  that  for  your 
chances !"  answers  she. 

"Think  you  she  ever  cared  for  Sir  Percy  ?"  asks 
he. 

"Sir,  who  can  fathom  a  woman's  heart?  'Tis 
deeper  than  the  sea;  so  deep,  methinks,  ofttimes 
she  herself  holds  not  that  plummet  that  can  sound 
it.  Sir  Robin,  I  take  my  leave  of  you." 

"Hold  !  hold !  Sir,  not  so  fast.  Where  next  may 
I  encounter  you  ?" 

"That  must  be  as  Her  Ladyship  says,"  answers 
Peggy.  "Your  inn's  in  Pimlico?" 

"Yes,  the  Puffled  Hen,  not  far  off  Battersea 
Bridge." 

"Farewell,  Sir,  and  look  you  keep  close  in-doors, 
and  risk  no  quarrel  with  Sir  Percy  de  Bohun." 

"Farewell,  Sir,"  watching  Her  Ladyship  turn 
down  the  street  as  he  turns  up.    "Gad's  life !  'twas 
well  he  happened  when  he  did,  and  not  earlier, 
151 


to  eavesdrop  my  bargain  with  the  wharf -rats! 
'Sdeathi  Eisk  no  quarrel  with  Sir  Percy!  Not 
so  long  as  there's  guineas  left  to  buy  corpses  with !" 
and  the  little  gentleman  trots  over  to  Pimlico, 
tolerably  well  pleased  with  his  evening's  work; 
there,  however,  to  be  greeted  with  the  reading  of 
more  newspapers,  including  that  one  which  had 
earlier  in  the  day  so  entertained  Beau  Brummell 
and  his  familiars. 

Xot  for  a  moment  did  the  Baronet  mistrust,  or 
have  a  suspicion,  other  than  that  his  fame  had 
caused  him  to  be  made  the  subject  of  such  a  pack 
of  pretty  stories  as  was  then  the  custom  of  the 
press,  as  now,  regarding  any  gentleman  of  posi 
tion  and  gallantry.  Sir  Robin's  vanity  easily  swal 
lowed  the  dose,  and  he  even  slapped  his  thigh  and 
laughed  his  little  dice-rattle  laugh,  as  he  reflected 
how  safe  he  really  was  with  never  a  challenge  or 
a  brawl  to  his  cowardly  credit  since  he  got  his 
first  flogging  at  Eton. 

He  actually  mouthed  over  his  prospective  woo 
ing,  and  assured  winning  of  Lady  Peggy,  and  felt 
a  calm  satisfaction  in  the  knowledge  that  the  one 
rival  he  feared  would  so  soon  be  beyond  the  reach 
152 


GOES      TO      TO  \V  .\ 

of  ladies'  smiles  or  tears.  Uo  qualms  came  to 
disturb  his  genial  enjoyment  of  purposed  assassina 
tion.  In  those  days  to  kill  was  nearer  men's  tem 
pers  than  it  is  to-day.  'Twas  with  blackguard 
and  man  of  honor  alike,  the  first  redress  for  even 
the  pettiest  sort  of  a  dispute;  with  the  difference 
of  method  only,  that  the  gallant  blade  fought  out 
his  quarrel  on  the  open  field,  while  the  craven 
bought  a  hireling's  dagger  to  do  it  in  the  dark. 

Meantime,  My  Lad}-,  by  as  direct  a  route  as  she 
can  fathom  out  of  the  labyrinth  of  her  ignorance 
and  her  distracted  state  of  mind,  makes  back  to 
Peter's  Court  with  her  parcel  of  duds  still  under 
her  arm. 

She  enters,  mounts  the  stair-case,  seeks  her 
room,  closes  the  door,  and  sits  down. 

"  'Tis  now  not  to  be  doubted,"  she  says  to  her 
self,  "but  that  the  Devil's  at  the  helm  of  my  ship — • 
and  that  I  am  to  be  a  man  for  the  rest  of  my  life. 
'Sdeath!  as  dad  says,  I'll  stop  over  till  Sunday 
night's  o'er  past,  and  as  surely  as  my  name's 
Peggy  Burgoyne  I'll  foil  that  little  dastardly 
groat  of  a  Baronet's  plot  to  murder  him  that  I  once 
1-loved.  Bah !"  cries  she  half  aloud.  "What's  the 
153 


use  of  mincin'  matters  that's  true?  Him  that  1 
love !  Even  if  he's  dyin'  for  Lady  Diana,  and 
goin'  to  be  her  husband  instead  of  mine !  'Con 
sents  !' "  murmurs  she,  flinging  herself  on  the  bed 
in  a  flood  of  tempestuous  tears. 

In  vain  regretting,  she  now  too  fully  realized 
that  her  own  wilful  words,  her  jealousy,  her  false 
hoods,  her  deceits,  were  the  sole  causes  for  Sir 
Eobin's  terror,  and,  therefore,  for  the  abominable 
scheme  which  he  had  just  concocted. 

Presently  she  arose,  tossed  the  bundle  once 
more  back  into  its  hiding-place,  and  set  to  pacing' 
up  and  down  the  floor  as  she'd  seen  her  twin  do  at 
home  when  he  was  looking  high  and  low  for  a 
rhyme. 

'Twas  weightier  matters  kept  Peg  moving  for 
an  hour  or  more,  and  quick-spinning  as  were  her 
heart  and  temper,  her  brain  bore  a  more  even 
balance. 

First  she  had  thought  to  warn  Percy  by  a  letter 
unsigned ;  the  which  she  knew  he'd  pitch  into  the 
fire  and  think  no  more  about.  Then,  that  she'd 
write  one  to  Kennaston  imploring  him  to  keep 
Percy  from  the  pier  Sunday  night  or  any  other; 
154 


GOES      TO       TOWN 

this  she  soon  recognized  would  have  the  fate  of 
t'other.  Then,  'twas  to  contrive  some  plan  to 
fetch  him  to  Richmond,  Windsor,  any  place  else 
for  Sunday;  but  to  this  arose  the  objection  that 
the  blackguards  cheated  of  one  day,  or  place,  would 
not  fail  to  wait  upon  their  prey  some  other.  At 
the  last,  Her  Ladyship's  shrewd  common-sense  and 
indomitable  pluck  plainly  showed  her  there  was 
but  one  safe  plan  out  of  the  danger ;  and  this  must 
be  to  go  herself  to  the  river  Sunday  night,  and 
there  concealed,  armed,  await  the  coming  of  the 
cut-throats  from  their  den,  and  from  the  rear,  put 
a  shot  into  each  at  one  and  the  same  moment. 

Could  she  do  it  ? 

Her  Ladyship  had  muscles  of  steel,  no  nerves, 
as  the  fine  ladies  of  her  day  comprehended  them; 
as  brave  and  loyal  a  heart  as  ever  beat  in  any 
breast ;  good  faith  in  God,  for  all  her  f rowardness ; 
and  that  species  of  love  burning  within  her  for  Sir 
Percy  de  Bohun,  which  has,  not  a  few  times  in  the 
world's  history,  made  frailest  woman  into  man's 
equal  for  courage. 

To  Lady  Peggy  there  seemed  a  divine  compensa 
tion  in  the  fact  that  it  had  come  to  her,  to  save 
155 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

the  very  one  whom,  by  her  lies  and  wilfulness,  she 
alone  had  been  the  means  of  endangering. 


156 


In  this  same  Her  Ladyship's  mount  is  shot 

dead  under  her  in  Epstowe  Forest,  and 

she  makes  off  on  Tom  Kidde's  horse. 

This  young  gentleman  now  stood  looking  from 
a  window  of  his  uncle's  house,  upon  all  the  dewy 
leafing  beauty  of  the  Park  at  May.  His  brow  was 
knit,  his  lips  tight  shut,  his  hand  amid  his  ruffles 
clenched. 

At  the  table  sat  Kennaston,  inky-fingered,  scrib 
bling;  eyes  now  rolling  to  the  ceiling,  now  roving 
hither  and  yon. 

"Ah!"  sighs  this  one.  "If  the  critics  do  not 
find  this  canto  to  their  taste,  may  I  be  damned !" 

"You're  like  to  go  to  Court  to  the  Devil,  I'm 
157 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

thinking  then,  dear  lad,"  speaks  de  Bohun  over  his 
shoulder. 

"Fame !  Fame  I"  cries  the  young  poet,  pushing 
back  in  his  chair,  wig  awry  and  quill  poised  in 
air.  "I'll  hunt  thee  to  my  dying  hour,  and  if 
thou  escap'st  me  then,  'twill  all  be  Lady  Diana's 
fault." 

"How's  that?"  asks  Percy,  with,  however,  but 
small  ring  of  interest  in  his  voice. 

"Oh!"  exclaimed  Peg's  twin,  "the  minx  mocks 
me!  'Tis  Monday,  kindness  and  all  smiles,  to 
wake  on  Tuesday  for  indifference;  pouts  on 
Wednesday;  lure-me-ons  o'  Thursday;  forgetful- 
ness  for  Friday ;  radiance  for  Saturday,  and  all  a- 
jumble,  sweets-and-f rowns !  showers !  sunshine ! 
what  you  will! — and  will  not! — for  my  Sunday 
fare." 

Percy  sighs  and  smiles. 

"Percy,  sometimes  I  think  Diana,  does  love 
you!" 

"No,  Sir,  never.     We're  like  brother  and  sister, 

nothing  else,  save  my  uncle's  absurd,  obstinate 

(now-cured)  whim,  since  childhood,  to  match  his 

heir  with  Brookwood's  heiress.     Odzooks!  Ken, 

158 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

you're  like  every  other  swain  that  ever  sighed, 
always  looking  for  a  rival  to  be  jealous  of !  Lady 
Di  cares  for  you;  an  you  doubted  it  before,  'tis 
time  to  take  up  hope,  since  you  are  asked  to 
Brookwood  for  a  visit,  and  go  popping  off  to-night, 
with  me  left  home  to  think  alone  on  Peggy/' 

"Zounds!  Sir,  'tis  not  you  only  that's  thinking 
of  her !"  cries  the  young  man  rising  and  crossing 
to  the  fire.  "But,  what  would  you !  if  I  call  out 
the  bell-man,  publish  her  disappearance  in  the 
newepapers ;  get  word  to  my  father  and  my  moth 
er;  what  comes  oft  all,  but  scandal?  and  like  as 
not  dad  an  apoplexy,  and  My  Lady  mother  a  set  of 
fits  and  a  death-bed !" 

"Ken,  I'm  a  damned  fool  ever  to  stop  inside  of 
doors  or  to  cease  pacing  streets,  haunting  inns, 
shadowing  Sir  Robin  McTart,  until  I  find  her  I" 

"Fie,  Sir,  if  she's  gone  off  with  Sir  Robin  Mc 
Tart,  'tis,  I  promise  you,  with  a  wedding-ring  on 
her  finger,  and  not  else !  An  she  loves  him,  what'e 
to  be  said  or  done,  if  he's  her  lawful  lord  ?" 

"taught.  I  myself  went  down  to  Kennaston 
yesterday.  I  said  nothing  to  you,  Ken,"  he  adda» 


159 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

noting  the  other's  surprised  and  reproachful  start, 
with  a  hand  upon  his  junior's  shoulder. 

"I  thought  I'd  not  interrupt  the  epic  and  your 
frenzies  about  Lady  Di,  with  my  troubles." 

"Well,  what  news  of  Peg?  Any?"  asks  her 
twin  anxiously. 

"Xone.  I  saw  Chockey,  and  only  got  from  her 
what  Grigson  had,  the  positive  assurance  that  her 
mistress  had  gone  up  to  London.  'Of  her  own  free 
will?'  I  asked.  'Yes,  Sir  Percy,'  said  she. 
'Alone?'  I  inquired.  'No,  Sir  Percy,'  was  her 
answer,  nor  could  I  force,  frighten,  or  buy  the 
baggage  into  any  further  confidence.  She  did 
beg  of  me,  however,  seek  out  Her  Ladyship,  if  I 
could,  and  find  how  she  fared." 

"Gad's  life,  Sir !  She  has  eloped.  "Pis  clear  as 
crystal !" 

"One  thing  more,  I  asked  Chock:  Had  Her 
Ladyship  money  in  her  purse  ?  'Lawk,  Sir  Percy !' 
cried  she,  'two  hundred  pounds  I  know  of !' ': 

"  'Two  hundred  pounds !' "  repeats  Peg's  twin 
in  vast  amazement.     "  "Pis  sure  more'n  she  ever 
saw  before  in  our  whole  lives  put  together.     Oh, 
the  girl's  safely  wedded,  Sir,  beyond  a  doubt  I" 
160 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

"Sir !"  says  Percy,  sitting  at  the  table,  with  his 
head  low  in  his  hands.  "The  blackguard's  won 
her  from  me !" 

"I  fear  so,  Sir."  The  two  men's  hands  meet 
and  grasp  in  the  silent  fashion  of  their  sex:  oft- 
times  more  eloquent  than  any  words  e'er  speeched. 

"Would  I  had  made  a  hole  in  his  heart  that 
night  in  Lark  Lane !"  cried  Sir  Percy  next. 

"Sir  Kobin's  nimble,  Sir,  and  knows  a  trick  or 
two  with  steel,  as  well  as  dice." 

"Aye:  a  gallant  every  inch;  'tis  for  that  I  hat€ 
him  all  the  more;  and  yet,  Ken,  sometimes,  lad, 
when  I've  been  a-staring  at  him  from  afar,  I've 
caught  something  in  his  countenance  resembling 
Peg,  and  it's  that's  made  me  halt  like  a  chit  at  pro 
voking  of  him  further." 

Kennaston  nods.  "Aye:  I've  remarked  it;  but 
held  my  peace,  Percy,  for  'tis  said  man  and  wife 
often  grow  to  look  alike,  and  I  doubt  not,  some 
times  begin  after  the  same  pattern." 

Sir  Percy  sighs  again:  turns  up  the  room  with 
drooped  lids ;  in  silence  getting  that  grip  upon  his 
soul  which  noblest  natures  insist  on  with  them 
selves,  even  in  crises  like  his.  'Tie  a  bitter  battle, 
161 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

closer  fought  and  quicker,  too,  than  any  won  or 
lost  with  swords  and  guns.  The  struggle's  writ 
upon  his  face  as  he  goes;  hut  when  he  comes  his 
victory's  writ  there  too. 

"Kennaston,"  says  he,  very  quiet  and  off-hand, 
"I'm  thinking  I'll  go  to  the  Colonies,  to  Virginia." 

"What !  no !"  ejaculates  the  poet,  placing  a  hand 
on  either  of  his  friend's  shoulders. 

"Yes,  Ken,  dear  lad,  I  could  not  live  in  Eng 
land  without  her ;  perhaps  yonder,  over  the  sea,  in 
the  new  land  that's  growing  up,  I  may  learn  to 
lead  a  new,  better  life,  just  for  her  sake  that's  lost 
to  me  forever.  At  the  least  I  can  strive,  at  such  a 
distance,  to  serve  my  country  and  my  King  like  a 
man — until  the  end  I'll  pray  for  comes." 

Kennaston  turns  off,  with  tears  in  his  eyes. 

"Mostly,"  says  he  brokenly,  "were  not  Peggy  my 
twin,  I'd  be  in  a  ripe  mood  for  a-cursing  of  her ! 
When,  Percy  ?"  asks  he,  after  a  pause. 

"As  soon  as  may  be,"  is  the  reply.  "I've  the 
promise  of  a  commission  by  my  uncle's  influence ! 
Come,  come,  lad  o'  my  heart,"  laughs  he  through 
his  own  misty  eyes.  "The  wind's  not  in  my  ship's 
sails  yet.  I  promised  Mr.  Brummell  for  his  ex- 
162 


GOBS      TO      TOWN 

pedition  to  Ivy  Dene  for  the  morrow,  and  I'll 
hardly  be  ready  in  all  points  to  get  under  way  be 
fore  you're  back  in  town  from  your  visit  to  Brook- 
wood;  whence  I  foresee  you'll  fly  with  Diana's 
''yes/  betwixt  her  kiss  on  your  cheek." 

'Twas  now  Mr.  BrummelPs  famous  and  long- 
talked-about  party  to  Ivy  Dene  this  very  next  day 
that  dawned. 

Now,  Her  Ladyship  had  vowed  to  herself  that, 
come  what  might,  she  would  avoid  this,  even  did 
Fate  keep  her  in  London.  'Twas  no  part  of  her 
program,  although  she  could  do  it  as  well  as 
any  sporting  squire,  to  make  for  her  future  any 
such  memory  as  riding  a  horse  astride  for  thirty 
miles  out  and  back,  in  the  company"  a  half- 
score  of  gentlemen  must  furnish ;  yet,  so  is  each  of 
us  rather  the  creature  of  circumstance  than  will, 
that  the  hour  appointed  found  Peg  mounted  on  a 
gray  with  blood  in  his  veins,  and  a-pacing  down 
Piccadilly  to  the  White  Horse  beside  Beau  Brum- 
mell's  bay. 

She  could  not,  with  Sir  Robin's  murderous  pact 
in  her  perpetual  view,  make  up  her  mind  to  omit 
a  company  that  should  include  Sir  Percy. 
163 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

It  seemed  to  her  that  any  day  spent  by  him  out 
of  her  sight  might  prove  fatal;  that  Sir  Kobin's 
hirelings  might  conceive  it  better  to  their  purpose 
to  put  an  end  to  their  intended  victim  before  the 
Sunday.  So,  aching  with  an  insane  but  not  un 
natural  impulse  to  pull  rein  and  confess  all ;  burn 
ing  with  shame  to  remember  'twas  of  Lady  Diana's 
sweetheart  she  was  thinking ;  mortified  beyond  be 
lief  every  time  her  saddle  grazed  her  breeches; 
intent  lest  an  unsuspected  sword  should  flash 
from  the  hedge-rows,  the  sheep-cotes,  or  the 
shadows  of  Epstowe  Forest,  which  they  traversed 
on  their  way ;  My  Lady  Peggy,  wishing  amidst  all 
this  that  she  had  never  come  to  town,  yet  con 
trived  to  display  a  very  cheerful  mien,  to  laugh  as 
loud  as  she  dared,  keeping  her  high  notes  cau 
tiously  to  herself,  as  she  had  in  her  speech  ever 
since  the  night,  as  Sir  Eobin,  she  had  made  her 
first  appearance  in  Lark  Lane — to  join  in  jest, 
quip,  prank,  such  as  a  gay  cavalcade  of  jovial  gen 
tlemen  were  then  wont  to  indulge  in. 

Such  are  some  of  the  strange  vicissitudes  inci 
dent  to  being  that  most  amazingly  delicious  com 
pound,  a  wilful  and  withal  true-hearted  woman. 
164 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

As  Mr.  Brummell  had  planned,  they  halted  for 
refreshment  at  the  Merry  Eabbit  at  Market  Ossory, 
and  left,  after  a  game  of  bowls  on  the  green,  to 
pursue  their  way.  Percy  lingered  a  bit  in  the 
rear :  truth  to  tell,  his  reflections  were  none  of  the 
gayest,  and  the  presence  of  the  supposed  Sir  Eobin 
McTart,  and  the  conclusion,  which,  together  with 
Ken,  he  had  been  forced  to  reach,  that  Lady  Peggy 
had  run  off  with  the  Baronet,  did  not  by  any  means 
conspire  to  the  lightening  of  his  spirits.  As  he 
watched  his  presumed  rival,  heard  the  ringing 
laugh,  the  brilliant  jest:  noted  the  careless  air, 
and  thought  of  this  cavalier  as  Lady  Peggy's  lord, 
his  choler  knew  no  bounds,  and  it  appeared  to  him 
that,  come  what  might,  he  must  invent  cause  of 
quarrel,  and  one  or  the  other  of  'em  be  left  cold  on 
the  field. 

"Why,"  a  thousand  times  he  asked  himself, 
"this  mystery  regarding  her  marriage?  Why  not 
have  wedded  Sir  Eobin  from  her  father's  home, 
and  with  her  father's  blessing,  since,"  Sir  Percy 
reluctantly  admitted,  "no  fault  could  be  found 
with  so  fine  a  young  gentleman ;  and  his  fortune, 
he  knew  to  be  considerable." 
165 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

He  was  aware  that  Her  Ladyship  was  romantic 
to  a  degree,  and  he  could  but  decide  that  this 
predilection  had  caused  her  to  elope  and  to  pre 
serve  the  matter  in  a  wrapping  of  secrecy  for  a 
time;  no  doubt  even  now  from  her  retirement 
looking  forward  to  the  hour  when  she  should 
emerge  as  Lady  McTart ! 

Sir  Percy  gritted  his  teeth  together  and  struck 
his  spurs  so  deep  that  his  horse  gave  a  plunge 
which  brought  him  up,  neck  and  neck,  with  the 
gray  of  the  supposed  Baronet,  and  the  black  of 
Mr.  Chalmers. 

"To  the  rescue,  Sir  Percy !"  cried  this  one  jocu 
larly.  "Your  assistance  I  beg,  and  the  loan  of 
your  wits  in  our  argument." 

"With  all  my  heart !"  answers  Percy,  scenting  a 
possible  chance  to  worst  his  rival,  even  in  a  battle 
of  words.  "What's  the  subject  ?" 

"A  truce  to  't !"  exclaims  the  Beau,  with  an  ex 
pressive  shake  of  his  head  at  Mr.  Chalmers,  who, 
however,  seldom  notes  any  obstacle  to  the  pleasure 
of  his  present  moment. 

"No  truce  at  all,  Mr.  Brummell !"  answers  he 
gaily.  "'Tis— " 

166 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

"  'Tis  nothing  whatever,  Sir  Percy,"  interrupts 
Lord  Escombe,  putting  his  hand  on  Chalmers's 
rein,  and  adding  in  an  undertone :  "Gadzooks ! 
man,  hold  your  peace.  The  matter's  like  tow  and 
tinder  betwixt  Percy  and  McTart." 

"Ton  my  soul,  Gentlemen!"  now  cries  Percy, 
"I  insist  upon  Jack's  being  allowed  to  proceed 
with  his  remarks.  If  he  wants  my  counsels, 
they're  his.  Come,  Sir,  speak." 

"  'Tis  but  this,"  says  Mr.  Chalmers.  "I  say  to 
Sir  Robin  that  since  the  world's  busy  with  rumors 
of  his  secret  marriage  to  Lady  Peggy  Burgoyne; 
since  as  I  learn  (by  my  man,  who  had  it  at  the 
gate  of  the  very  best  authority — Gad!  Sirs,  'tis  a 
fact,  even  if  we  don't  relish  it,  the  gist  of  our 
gossip  comes  from  below  stairs,  up!)  that  Lady 
Peggy  is  from  home,  her  father  believing  her  in 
Kent  at  her  godmother's!"  Mr.  'Chalmers  smiles, 
"her  mother  being  in  York,  believing  her  safe  at 
Kennaston,  I  say,  My  Lords  and  Gentlemen,  it 
behooves  Sir  Robin  confide  the  matter  to  his  best 
friends,  and  give  them  chances  to  congratulate 
him  and  the  Lady.  Have  I  the  right  oft,  Percy, 
yes  or  no  ?" 

167 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

Percy  is  silent  for  a  moment :  it  seems  to  him  a 
desecration  of  the  sweet,  modest  and  womanly  girl 
he  has  so  long  adored,  thus  to  hear  even  her  name, 
much  less  a  discussion  of  her  most  private  matters, 
made  into  mirthful  subject  on  a  morning's  ride. 

His  anger,  too,  is  great  that  the  man  whose 
name  is  coupled  with  hers  has  not  already  put  a 
stop  to  such  a  conversation,  even  were  it  at  the 
point  of  the  sword. 

Shall  he,  here  and  now,  so  reply  to  Mr.  Chalmers 
as  shall  breed  an  instant  retort  from  Sir  Robin, 
and  a  challenge  on  the  spot?  The  wild  thought 
even  flashes  through  his  brain  that  Sir  Robin 
might,  by  the  grace  of  God!  be  left  dead  on  the 
ground,  and  that  some  time  in  the  dim  future  he 
might  win  Peggy  back  to  himself. 

But,  with  a  tightening  rein,  he  checks  himself, 
as  well  as  his  horse,  as  he  answers. 

"Mr.  Chalmers,  the  Lady  you  name  is  one  whom 
I  honor  most  deeply,  and  it  seems  to  me  if  she  has 
seen  fit  to  go  into  seclusion,  or  to  marry  secretly, 
that,  while  I  may  wish  to  God  it  had  been  in  open 
church!  I  must  continue  to  respect  her  prefer 
ences,  until  she  elects  to  change  them;"  with 
168 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

which,  breaking  the  little  pause  of  silence  which 
follows,  Sir  Percy  gallops  ahead,  joining  Mr. 
Brummell,  who  has  put  himself  quickly  out  of  the 
commotion  he  had  foreseen  as  likely  to  arrive. 

Meantime,  it  may  be  correctly  imagined  that 
Her  Ladyship,  with  all  her  sex's  exquisite  in 
genuity  at  plaguing  itself  whenever  it  possibly  can, 
had  seized  upon  those  words  of  Sir  Percy's  most 
easily  twisted  into  a  means  of  self-torture. 

"I  wish  to  God  it  had  been  in  open  church !" 
instantly  stuck  itself  in  her  thoughts  beside  "Conr 
sents;"  the  two  forming  just  that  species  of 
flagellation  which  ladies  so  situated  in  mind  are 
wont  to  inflict  upon  themselves. 

The  supposed  Sir  Eobin,  from  this  on,  until  the 
arrival  of  the  party  at  Ivy  Dene,  became  taciturn, 
even  morose,  and  not  a  syllable  could  be  got 
from  him  in  answer  to  the  wildest  gibes. 

Her  eyes  intent  upon  Sir  Percy,  who  now  kept 
to  the  fore  with  his  host,  My  Lady  Peggy,  on  the 
keen  lookout  for  the  possible  assassin,  and  to  the 
tune  of  "consents,"  and  its  running-mate,  "I 
would  to  God  it  had  been  in  open  church !"  put  in 
a  very  dolorous  twenty  miles;  but,  on  dismount- 
169 


ing  at  Mr.  Brununell's  doorstep,  she  endeavored  ta 
infuse  a  little  joyousness  into  her  looks  and  speech. 

Indeed,  'twas  difficult;  yet  no  more  so  to-day 
than  any  other  since  she  had  been  coerced  by  cir 
cumstances  into  an  acceptance  of  the  Beau's  hos 
pitality.  Every  mouthful  of  bread  and  meat 
Peggy  ate  well-nigh  choked  her,  as  she  remem 
bered  'twas  meant  for  Sir  Robin  McTart.  She 
felt  herself  a  trickster,  a  villain  of  the  deepest 
dye,  and  yet  saw  no  way  out  of  her  usurped  char 
acter  with  honor  and  repute;  no  way  of  keeping 
in  it  save  by  the  deeper  dyeing  of  her  soul  in  sin, 
which  she  promised  herself,  and  heaven,  to  expiate 
as  soon  as  Percy  should  be  safe  from  Sir  Robin's 
men. 

The  afternoon  was  spent  as  had  been  planned; 
the  country  cook's  dinner  was  voted  a  perfect  suc 
cess:  Mr.  Chalmers,  slightly  raised  by  wine,  even 
going  so  far  as  to  send  her  down,  with  his  compli 
ments,  his  favorite  ruby  heart-pin:  when,  on  the 
spot,  not  a  gentleman  present  but  whipped  out  a 
jewel  from  ruffle,  finger,  pocket  or  fob,  and  Peggy 
herself  tying  'em  up  in  a  pocket-napkin  laced 


170 


GOES       TO       TOWN 

with  Brussels  and  perfumed  like  the  civet-cat,  sent 
them  down  to  the  astonished  lass  in  the  kitchen. 

A  game  of  cards  was  in  order  after  the  repast: 
a  tilt  at  politics:  a  wager  on  the  question  of  tea 
in  the  Colonies;  Lady  Peggy  and  Sir  Percy  keep~ 
ing,  by  the  grace  of  each,  well  apart  in  all  these 
encounters ;  and  at  twelve  o'clock,  just  as  the  moon 
was  rising  behind  a  bank  of  splendid  star-fringed 
clouds,  Mr.  Brummell  and  his  guests  set  forth  on 
their  homeward  road. 

The  beauty  of  the  night  was  such  as  soothes  and 
casts  its  own  mantle  of  peace  over  even  those  un 
quiet  spirits  which  may  be  abroad. 

It  reminded  Lady  Peggy,  as  she  rode  along,  of 
just  such  another  when  she  and  Percy  had  wan 
dered  up  and  down  together  in  the  weedy  gardens 
at  Kennaston.  Of  that  identical  night  Percy  also 
was  thinking,  and  of  his  wilful  Lady's  bright 
sallies,  quick  smiles,  frowns ;  yea,  even  of  one  little 
touch  of  her  red  lips,  light  as  thistledown,  which 
now  he  seemed  to  feel  the  ghost  of,  on  his  fore 
head. 

The  cavalcade  had  left  the  highway  some  dis- 


171 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

tance  behind;  the  moon  was  fast  being  overtaken 
by  the  clouds  whence  she  had,  an  hour  or  more 
ago,  emerged;  the  dews  fell  thick,  and  the  scent 
of  the  hawthorn  was  sweet  in  the  air  as  they 
plunged  into  Epstowe  Forest. 

"Ah,  Gentlemen,"  cried  out  Mr.  Brummell, 
snapping  his  whip,  "by  Gad,  Sirs,  what  a  night  for 
Tom  Kidde  and  his  merry  men !  the  skies  dark,  the 
moon  playin'  hide  and  seek,  fifteen  watches  and 
purses,  and  as  many  rings,  pins  and  seals  between 
us  as  you  left  not  at  Ivy  Dene  with  my  cook 
Elizabeth!" 

"Ha !  ha !  ha !  No  fears  of  Tom  Kidde,  an  he 
knows  our  caliber,  jumping  out  upon  us !"  laughs 
Lord  Wootton. 

"'Slife!  Sir,  he's  the  sort  of  highwayman  to 
jump  out  on  the  best  mettle  that  strides  horse 
flesh  or  carries  gold.  The  young  devil's  afraid  of 
nothing  that  breathes,  and  has  been  the  terror  of 
travelers  now  these  three  or  four  years  gone,"  says 
Vane. 

"He's  not  above  one-and-twenty,  smooth-faced 
as  a  girl,  those  say  who've  caught  a  glimpse  of  him 
under  his  mask;  dresses  like  a  macaroni,  voiced 
172 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

like  a  choir-singer,  and  nimble  as  an  Indian 
monkey !" 

"Frequents  he  this  neighborhood  ?"  queries  Lady 
Peggy,  who  at  mention  of  the  word  "highwayman" 
has  tightened  her  rein,  clapped  a  hand  on  her 
holster,  and  felt  her  heart  thump,  as  she  involun 
tarily  connects  it  with  possible  danger  to  Percy. 

"That  he  does,"  said  Mr.  Chalmers.  "His  den, 
or  one  of  'em's  somewhere  in  the  depths  of  Ep- 
stowe ;  and  no  one  can  tell  when  or  where  he's  like 
to  turn  up  next." 

"When  did  he  turn  up  last?"  says  Sir  Wyatt, 
laughing. 

"I  can  tell  you,"  returns  Vane.  "  'Twas  about 
Candlemas.  I  was  down  at  home  on  a  visit  from 
town,  when  the  news  came,  almost  frightening 
my  mother  out  of  her  wits,  and  setting  the  maids 
a-shivering  like  so  many  poppies  in  a  storm.  Tom 
Kidde  had  pounced  on  Lord  Brookwood  not  a  mile 
from  his  own  gates,  lifted  him  off  his  mount  in 
the  politest  fashion  imaginable,  rifled  His  Lord 
ship's  pockets,  appropriated  his  weapons,  and  rid 
den  off  on  his  victim's  horse,  leaving  His  Lordship 
tied  to  a  tree  at  the  roadside,  where  he  was  found 
173 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

by  Biggs,  the  J.  P.,  the  next  morning,  a-bellowin* 
and  a-cursin'  like  a  wiH  bull." 

A  hearty  laugh  greets  Mr.  Vane's  description. 

"Yes,  but  that  ain't  all  oft,  My  Lords  and  Gen 
tlemen,"  continues  he. 

"By  no  means!"  cries  Beau  Brummell,  out  of 
his  fit  of  hilarity.  "I  recall  now,  that  I  rode  over 
from  Lauriston  Castle,  where  I  was  visiting,  that 
very  morning,  and  heard  the  adventure  from 
Brookwood  himself.  I  fancy  he  had  the  laugh,  or 
will  have  it  some  day,  on  Tom,  or  some  of  his  men, 
for  the  stolen  mare  was  none  other  than  His  Lord 
ship's  famous  'Homing  Nell.' '; 

"Is  it  possible !"  exclaims  Sir  Percy,  "the  mare 
that's  been  taken  off  a  hundred  miles,  let  loose, 
and  finds  her  way  home  again;  the  mare  that's 
been  sold  and  ridden  fifty  miles  away,  and  then, 
when  she  felt  a  hand  at  her  mouth  she  could 
master,  has  taken  the  bit  between  her  teeth,  and 
the  one  in  the  saddle's  only  sometimes  been  able  to 
keep  his  seat,  and  let  her  take  him  straight  back 
whence  she  came  ?" 

"The  very  same  'Homing  Nell.'    Brookwood's 


174 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

?ure  of  her  getting  back  sooner  or  later,"  says  the 
Beau. 

"They'll  never  catch  Tom,  though,"  cries  Es- 
combe. 

"If  they  do,"  remarks  Vane,  "he'll  hang  not  two 
hours  after  he's  bagged;  his  death-warrant's  been 
lying  signed  in  Mr.  Biggs's  pocket-book  any  time 
this  twelvemonth ;  and  there's  still  a  gibbet  stand 
ing  on  the  hill  above  Brook- Armsleigh  Village !" 

"Zounds !  Sirs !"  exclaims  Mr.  Chalmers,  "what 
a  life  't  must  be,  tho' ;  sleep  o'  days,  wake  o'  nights, 
prowling  under  the  branches,  harkening  for  game 
from  dusk  till  dawn,  all  seasons  the  same,  one's 
heart  in  one's  mouth,  till  the  hoof's  heard,  and 
then  a  masking  dash,  a  brawl,  a  thrift  quick  as  the 
lightning's  flash ;  a  corpse  or  two,  and  your  purse 
the  heavier  by  as  many  guineas  as  the  game's  had 
under  cover — and  all  to  the  tune  of  the  owl's  cry, 
and  I  doubt  not  for  some  sweet  Maid  Marian's 
sake!" 

"  'Slife !  hear  the  boy !"  cries  Mr.  Brummell. 
"One  would  think  him  sired  by  a  Jack  Sheppard 
rather  than  by  the  gentlest  Sir  that  ever  lived. 


175 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

For  your  froward  tendencies,  Sir,  you  shall  pay  a 
penalty." 

"Yea,  yea !  a  penalty !  a  penalty !"  cry  they  all. 

"In  what  kind?"  returns  Jack,  waving  his  hat 
over  his  head. 

"A  song !  a  song !"  they  answer. 

"Which  one?"  asks  he,  nothing  loath,  for  his 
lungs  are  lusty  and  his  reputation  for  singing 
above  the  ordinary. 

"What  you  will,"  they  answer. 

"Well,  then,  what  say  you  to  'Lady  Betty  Takes 
the  Air,'  since  all  can  join  me  in  the  chorus  ?" 

"Good !" 

"Percy,"  says  Jack,  "you've  a  pretty  pipe  in  your 
throat;  give  me  the  key,  will  you?  not  too  high, 
you  rascal,  I'm  not  vainglorious  at  my  music. 
So,  and,  so — there,"  as  Percy  does  as  he  is  asked. 


When  all  the  May  is  deck'd  about 
With  hawthorn  bud  and  blow; 

When  pinkly  shows  the  heather's  tip. 
And  harebells  nod  a-row — 


176 


GOES      TO      T  0  W  ft 

Lady  Betty  takes  the  air, 
Sing  ah  fa,  la-la-la! 
With  a  rush  hat  on  her  hair: 
Sing  ah  fa,  la-la-la! 

When  all  the  brown  earth  thrills  to  green, 

When  rivers  laugh  and  sing; 
When  lark  and  thrush  cajole  and  coax, 

And  all  the  wood's  a-wing  — 

Lady  Betty  takes  the  air,  etc, 

When  Corydon  most  sad,  forlorn, 
With  wrinkled  hose,  distraught, 

All  flouted  by  his  worshiped  Fair, 
Walks  forth  as  one  that's  daft, 
Lady  Betty  takes  the  air,  etc. 

When,  at  the  turn-stile  next  the  park, 

The  sad  swain  stops  to  sigh  —  • 
"No  lady  ever  lived  so  dear 
As  she  for  whom  I'd  die!" 

Lady  Betty  takes  the  air,  etc. 


When,  as  the  sun  walks  up  the 
And  as  the  milkmaid  hies 

Across  the  paddock  with  her  pails, 
And  as  the  lark  doth  rise  — 

Lady  Betty  takes  the  air,  etc. 


177 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

Cries  Betty,  flaunting  past,  "Oh  fie! 

A  gallant  all  unkempt, 
Such  ungenteel  and  woful  sight 

Kind  fortune  me  exempt!" 

Lady  Betty  takes  the  air,  etc. 


When  speaking  thus,  the  May-breeze 
Her  rush  hat  o'er  the  stile, 

And  Corydon  caught  quick  the  gaze, 
And  swift  his  sigh  turned  smile, 
Lady  Betty  takes  the  air,  etc. 

Thus,  when  the  May  is  deck'd  about 
With  hawthorn  bud  and  blow, 

Sweet  Betty  ties  her  hat-strings  fast, 
A  gallant  in  the  bow! 

Lady  Betty  takes  the  air,  etc. 

'Twas  ever  thus,  dear  maids  and  men, 
Whene'er  ye  walk  abroad  — 

'Tis  e'er  the  little  breeze  that  blows 
Each  lady  to  her  lord! 

Lady  Betty  takes  the  air,  etc. 


Every  one  joins  in  the  chorus  with  a  hearty  good 
will  ;  all  save  Her  Ladyship.  Peggy  dares  not  lift 
her  woman's  voice,  lest  E  scorn  be  at  right,  or 
Wootton  at  her  left,  shall  hear  its  most  unmannish 

178 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

lilt.  She  mouths  the  words,  though,  and  listens, 
as  she  has  many  a  time  before,  to  Sir  Percy's 
tones,  and  wonders  if  the  sentiment  is  making  him 
think  of  the  Lady  Diana. 

The  Lady  Diana,  however,  is  very  far  from  Sir 
Percy's  imagination.  He  has  been  moodily  rumi 
nating  on  the  possibilities  of  Tom  Kidde  (the 
most  renowned  desperado  in  all  England  of  that 
day)  suddenly  bursting  upon  the  party,  and  leav 
ing  a  corpse  behind  him — that  of  Sir  Eobin  Mc- 
Tart !  He  has  been  picturing  to  himself  the  pro 
found  pleasure  it  would  give  him  to  assist  in 
fetching  Sir  Eobin  to  the  nearest  church  for  decent 
burial,  and  the  almost  hilarious  joy  that  would  be 
his  in  attending  his  rival's  body  to  the  grave ! 
These  were,  according  to  the  strict  code,  most  mur 
derous  thoughts,  and  yet  how  pleasant,  if  how 
altogether  unprofitable  they  were  also. 

Mr.  Chalmers  is  in  the  midst  of  his  last  verse, 
his  voice  echoing  into,  and  back,  from  the  depths 
of  the  great  green  wood ;  there  is  not  a  wisp  of  the 
moon  visible  by  this,  and  no  light,  save  the  halo 
from  her  beauty  which  lines  and  rims  the  vast 
masses  of  clouds  above  them. 
179 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

Peggy  is  listening  to  the  song ;  she  hears  it  well : 
also  the  crunch  of  her  horse's  hoofs  on  the  narrow 
path;  also,  the  crackle  of  the  fresh  twigs  as  they 
snap  before  the  advance ;  and  too,  so  sharp  are  her 
ears,  the  sleepy  cheep  of  some  disturbed  bird  in 
its  nest,  and,  what  else  ? 

What  is  this  curious  stealthy  stir,  far-off,  and 
creeping  nearer  in  the  wood  ? 

And,  hark !  Peggy  puts  her  hand  to  her  ear  to 
hear  a  subdued  whistle,  sweet,  tuneful,  under- 
breath,  but  patent  to  her  sense,  and  too,  to  Sir 
Percy's. 

Before  either  can  move,  or,  indeed,  had  as  yet 
gathered  the  impulse  of  even  self-defense,  into  the 
midst  of  Mr.  Chalmers  and  the  rest,  with  their 
chorus,  dashes  a  company  of  riders  in  masks. 

A  shot,  low-aimed,  and  merely  intended  as  a 
slight  warning  of  what  may  be  expected,  should 
occasion  demand,  strikes  the  ground  at  Her  Lady 
ship's  right. 

With  remorse  and  reparation  at  his  heart-strings 
— 'tis  the  kind  of  man  who  could  be  but  generous 
to  his  worst  enemy — Sir  Percy's  horse  is  flung  be 
twixt  the  supposed  Sir  Eobin  and  the  band. 
180 


WOES      TO      TOWN 

"Good  evening,  My  Lords  and  Gentlemen/'  saya 
the  leader,  in  a  voice  like  a  lute.  "I  thank  you 
heartily  for  coming  my  way !  Purses  and  watches, 
merry  Sirs,  jewels,  trinkets,  snuff-boxes,  if  of  gold, 
pins,  fobs,  seals,  these  are  all  the  toll  I  demand, 
and  shall  be  forced  to  collect,  if  you  show  any  dis 
position  to  deny." 

It  might  be  wisely  argued  that,  while  this  speech 
was  being  made,  any  gentleman  might  have  either 
run  the  highwayman  through,  or  put  an  ounce  of 
lead  into  his  heart,  but  the  fact  of  the  matter  was, 
each  gentleman  found  himself  face  to  face  with 
another  gentleman  who  held  a  blunderbuss  up  to 
within  three  inches  of  his  nose. 

My  Lady's  first  thought  had  been  that  Sir 
Eobin's  men  had  not  waited  for  the  Sunday  night 
to  come,  but  presently  she  recognized  the  truth, 
and,  stung  by  the  fact  that  Sir  Percy  had  put 
himself  between  her  and  danger,  she  was  the  only 
one  of  the  whole  company  who  stirred  in  her  saddle 
other  than  to  do  the  bidding  of  Tom  Kidde. 

While  the  rest  were  busily  engaged  in  emptying 
their  treasures,  she,  making  feint  to  do  the  same, 
says  very  low  and  tauntingly  to  Sir  Percy : 
181 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

"Had  I  but  one  to  show  fight  with  me,  I'd  ne'er 
give  in  to  these  scoundrels." 

"As  soon  done  as  said,  Sir  Robin,"  whispers 
Percy.  "No  man  can  say  I'm  his  lesser  in  cour 
age!"  with  which  he  wrests  his  bridle  from  the 
blackguard  whose  hand's  upon  it,  whips  out  his 
sword  with  one  hand,  picks  out  his  pistol  with  the 
other,  grips  his  reins  in  his  teeth,  and  strikes  with 
steel  and  shot,  both  at  once. 

Peg's  his  match,  imitating  him  with  such  a  will 
as  sets  every  gentleman  of  'em  a-shootlng,  a-lung- 
ing  and  a-cursing  with  all  the  arms  and  breath  he's 
got ;  and  sets  the  robbers  for  a  second  to  their  wits, 
for  they  are  not  used  to  any  sort  of  encounter,  save 
one  that's  terror-stricken  and  submissive  in  the 
opponent. 

'Tis  a  bit  of  a  melee  quite  in  the  dark;  slashing 
and  pounding  betwixt  the  branches:  now  a  man 
unhorsed,  anon  up  again;  shots  resounding,  pow 
der  flashing,  until  in  about  ten  minutes  or  less 
the  chief  makes  a  plunge  for  Sir  Percy,  crying  out, 

"So  'twas  you  said  'fight/  was't !  Have  a  care ; 
no  man  can  defy  Tom  Kidde  and  live  to  tell  it !" 

"Nay!"  shouts  Her  Ladyship,  with  spurs  all 
182 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

inches  into  the  gray's  sides,  making  him  rear  aa 
she  puts  herself  between  Percy  and  the  highway 
man,  "  'twas  I  said  'fight' !" 

Whizz  !  and  a  ball  intended  for  Sir  Percy  strikes 
the  gray  dead  under  her. 

Whizz!  and  her  ball  strikes  Tom  Kidde  from 
his  mount. 

In  less  time  than  it  takes  to  tell  it,  Peg  was 
straight  in  the  highwayman's  saddle;  he  was 
picked  up  by  two  of  his  men,  bleeding,  set  before 
one  of  'em,  and  off :  My  Lords  and  Gentlemen  find 
themselves  once  more  alone  in  the  midst  of  Ep- 
stowe  Forest,  a-crawling  about  on  their  hands  and 
knees  a-gathering  up  their  spilled  guineas  and 
trinkets  by  flash  of  tinder-box. 

Sir  Percy,  trying  to  explain  to  them  who  had 
been  the  means  of  their  recovering  their  valuables 
and  of  putting  the  desperadoes  to  flight,  cries  out : 

"I  tell  you!  we  owe't  all  to  Sir  Robin  here! 
'Slife,  Gentlemen,  I'd  not  have  ventured  to  think 
of  resistance  had  it  not  been  for  him.  'Twas  he 
said,  close  in  my  ear,  'fight/  and  by  Gad!  Sirs, 
he's  lost  more'n  any  of  us;  the  horse  shot  under 
him." 

183 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

"The  gray's  well  lost  teaching  Tom  Kidde  he 
can't  terrify  all  the  men  in  England/'  answers  the 
Beau  from  his  sprawling  search  after  his  diamond 
snuff-box. 

"Ho,  Sir  Eobin!  Sir  Bobin!  Sir  Robin!"  Sir 
Wyatt  shouts  it  out,  and  the  rest  of  the  company 
take  it  up  with  a  long,  mellow  cadence  that  echoes 
for  a  mile. 

"Answer  man,  for,  by  the  faith,  if  we  can't 
pledge  you  here  in  anything  but  a  lap  of  May-dew 
out  of  a  primrose  leaf,  we'll  drink  you  such  a 
bumper,  'an  we  reach  the  White  Horse,  as  never 
was  filled  before!  London'll  toast  you  at  every 
dinner-table  in  Mayfair.  Odzooks,  Sir,  were  you 
the  fashion  yesterday,  what  will  you  be  to-mor 
row  !"  This  from  Escombe. 

"Where  is  Sir  Eobin?"  asks  Percy.  "He  was 
beside  me  not  five  seconds  since,  but  now,  by  my 
tinder,  nor  yet  by  the  coming  dawn,  can  I  descry 
him,"  shading  his  eyes  with  his  hand  and  peering 
about,  for  of  a  truth  'tis  close  to  four  o'clock,  and, 
notwithstanding  the  heavy  clouds,  the  east  begins 
to  thrill  with  the  touch  of  day. 

"Robin!  Sir  Robin!  Ho,  now!  Think  not  to 
184 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

play  a  trick  on  us  and  presently  spring  from  a 
greenwood  tree/'  says  Wootton. 

"Sir  .Robin/'  exclaims  Percy  loudly,  "I  pray  you 
answer  and  leave  not  your  friends  to  imagine  evil." 

"Tut,  tut,  'evil',"  puffs  the  Beau,  rising  from  his 
knees.  "Evil'll  never  happen  to  him.  Zounds ! 
but  my  legs  ache!  He's  laughing  in  his  sleeve 
now,  hard  by;  Robin's  not  one  to  court  notice  or 
praise — as  modest  a  youth  as  I  ever  beheld." 

"Worthy  of  Lady  Peggy  Burgoyne  even,  I  sup 
pose?"  says  Mr.  Chalmers  mischievously,  as  he 
adjusts  his  recovered  fob.  "I  could  embrace  him 
for  the  rendering  of  me  back  my  watch,  but  I  think 
him  a  fool  to  eschew  good  company  and  make 
home  alone  to  town." 

"Jack,"  says  Percy,  low,  "I  like  not  his  quitting 
of  us.  'Twas  too  sudden.  I  believe  I'll  go  a- 
hunting  him,"  pulling  his  rein  as  the  cavalcade 
once  more  prepared  to  start. 

"Where?"  asks  Jack.  "Bah!  be  not  such  a 
ninny ;  belike  he's  off  to  his  Lady,  to  win  kisses  off 
her  lips  by  the  rehearsal  of  his  prowess.  An  a 
man  chooses  to  flee  me,  I  let  him :  do  you  the  same, 
Percy ;  'tis  a  good  advice,  I  promise  you !" 
185 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

"But  suppose  those  devils  attack  him  again  when 
alone  ?"  says  this  one,  not  all  reassured,  as  he  and 
Jack  linger  a  bit  in  the  rear  of  their  companions. 

"Go  to  the  devil !"  remarks  Mr.  Chalmers, 
blithely.  "Fm  for  breakfast  at  the  White  Horse, 
and  for  leavin'  the  hero  of  the  hour  to  eat  his 
where  he  sees  fit.  He's  safe  enough." 

"I've  a  misgiving,"  answers  de  Bohun,  "and  he 
risked  his  life  for  mine  to-night.  I'll  strike  off 
here  to  the  west  and  join  you  when  I  find  him." 

"Good  luck  to  you  for  a  fool !"  laughs  Jack, 
putting  spurs  and  going  on  to  tell  this  news  to  the 
others. 

The  instant  that  Lady  Peggy  felt  herself  in  the 
highwayman's  saddle,  she  knew  from  long  ac 
quaintance  with  every  colt  Bickers  had  bred, 
raised,  or  broke,  since  she  was  six,  that  her  wrists 
had  met  their  match.  Before  she  had  time  to 
utter  a  word,  turn  her  head,  or  think,  she  felt  the 
warm  flesh  under  her  quiver  with  that  recovering 
impulse  which  horsemen  know  so  well ;  that  streak 
of  untamed  and  untamable  nature  which  lies, 
however  deep-hidden,  in  every  four-foot  that 


186 


GOES       TO       TOWN 

breathes,  and  which  never  fails  to  spurt  to  the 
front  when  it  gets  exactly  the  right  chance. 

Peggy's  light,  nay,  by  this,  weak  hand,  now  gave 
the  big  black  its  chance,  and  with  a  snort,  a  toss 
of  its  head,  and  a  vicious  swell  of  its  sides,  it  laid 
back  its  ears,  took  the  bit  between  its  teeth  as  if  it 
had  been  a  mess  of  oats,  and  reared  a  length  on  its 
forelegs:  when,  finding  its  rider  still  on,  it  started 
on  a  run  which  Her  Ladyship  had  not  the  slightest 
power  to  check.  All  she  could  do  was  to  keep  her 
seat. 

Like  a  flash,  out  of  the  forest  on  to  the  width  of 
the  heath,  plume  waving,  sword  flapping,  laces 
rippling,  curls  flying;  the  mare's  mane  slapping 
in  her  face;  legs  and  arms  and  will  all  at  work  to 
stop  the  beast  or  bring  it  into  some  sort  of  sub 
jection.  To  no  purpose.  The  black  head  now 
low,  as  if  picking  up  a  scent  from  the  turf  it  tore ; 
now  up,  as  though  snuffing  its  goal  from  afar,  the 
mare  skirted  the  heath,  gained  the  meadows;  over 
hedges  where  the  birds  rose  in  flocks  behind  its 
heels;  ditches,  where  the  muddy  waters  splashed 
over  Her  Ladyship's  satin  clothes :  here  a  bolt  into 


187 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

an  orchard,  leaving  a  ribbon  a-hanging  on  a  limb ; 
over  the  wall  like  a  rocket,  and,  at  breakneck  gait, 
through  a  hamlet,  rousing  the  people  out  of  their 
beds  to  peep  at  pane,  and  wonder.  Slap-dash  into 
a  pasture,  scattering  ewes  and  lambs  like  wool  be 
fore  the  wind,  taking  a  five-bar  into  a  common, 
thence  to  highway;  scampering  a  footbridge  to 
leave  it  shivered  behind  them,  and  all  Peg's 
thought  just  a  brave  prayer  to  be  kept  alive,  so  that 
she  might  not  fail  of  foiling  Sir  Robin's  men  Sun 
day  night ! 

Where  she  was  going,  she  knew  not.  Where  she 
was,  she  had  no  smallest  idea  when,  as  the  sun 
looked  over  the  long  low  line  of  horizon  before  her, 
she  with  a  shudder  beheld  a  gibbet  outlined  against 
the  morning  sky.  The  black  gave  a  lunge  that 
knocked  her  feet  out  of  the  stirrups  (quick  in 
again),  reared,  whinnied  like  a  devil,  and,  nose  to 
ground,  now  made  her  rider  understand  that  up  to 
the  present  she  had  done  nothing  much  in  the  way 
of  speed,  or  of  efforts  at  emptying  the  saddle. 

Yet  Her  Ladyship  stuck  on,  with  flying  colors, 
too,  and  no  loss  of  either  wig,  hat,  weapon  or  will, 
and  with  grateful  heart  she  now  found  herself 
188 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

being  spun  across  a  magnificent  park,  where  the 
deer  fled  before  her,  it  is  true,  but  at  the  upper  end 
of  which  she  saw  looming  the  turrets  and  towers  of 
a  fine  castle. 


189 


XI 


Wherein   Lady  Peggy   is   condemned   to    be 

hanged,  and  sets  forth,  attended  by  the 

clergy,  for  the  gallows. 

Although  Sir  Percy  had  cheerfully  foretold  for 
Kennaston  the  roseate  picture  of  Lady  Diana's 
<fYes"  crowning  the  young  poet's  somewhat  diffi 
dent  suit  with  untold  happiness,  the  fact  was  quite 
other.  Her  Ladyship,  on  the  day  of  Mr.  Brum- 
mell's  party  to  Ivy  Dene,  having  overheard  the 
Honorable  Dolly  Tarleton,  in  the  library,  laying 
six  to  four  to  Lady  Biddy  O'Toole,  that  their 
host's  daughter  was  "only  waiting  for  the  beau 
tiful  young  poet's  asking,  to  jump  into  his  arms 
immediately,"  did,  with  such  sudden  change  of 
190 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

demeanor  from  sweets  to  sours,  languishing  eyes 
to  averted  looks,  smiles  to  pouts,  corner  chats  to 
open  flouts,  put  her  lover  into  a  state  of  mind,  the 
like  of  which  he  presently  described,  as  only  he 
could,  in  a  copy  of  verses,  which  the  next  night  at 
White's  were  pronounced  to  be,  indeed,  "the  mas 
terpiece  of  one  whose  heart  pants,  whose  whole 
being's  but  at  the  beck  and  call  of  her  who  wears  a 
smocked  petticoat,  ogles  with  a  witching  eye,  and 
should  be  vain  that  so  much  genius  lays  itself  at 

her  feet,  to  wit,  Lady  D a  W n." 

For,  taking  immediate  fright  at  his  Lady's  cold 
ness,  Kennaston  had  ordered  a  post-chaise  from 
the  Brookwood  Arms,  and  without  a  word  of  fare 
well  to  Lady  Diana,  save  that  embodied  in  an  ode, 
"To  Chloe  When  Unkind,"  which  her  woman 
found  pinned  to  Her  Ladyship's  cloak  when  she 
was  putting  it  on  her  shoulders  the  following 
morning,  had  gone  to  town,  and  just  in  time  at  the 
White  Horse  to  be  haled  into  Mr.  Brummell's 
party  for  breakfast,  and  to  learn  of  the  adventure 
with  Tom  Kidde,  the  valor  of  Sir  Robin  McTart, 
and  the  absence  of  that  young  gentleman,  as  also 
Sir  Percy,  from  the  board. 
191 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

When  Lady  Diana's  woman  hooked  her  mistress's 
cloak  about  her  'twas  at  five  o'clock  in  the  morning, 
and  of  the  party  at  the  Castle  every  lady's  woman 
was  performing  the  same  office,  adding  hood  over 
curls  and  puffs,  and  sticking  the  finest  of  cambric 
pocket-napkins  into  their  mistress'  hands  by  the 
half  dozens;  for  'twas  easily  seen  that  such  early 
rising  could  be  for  no  other  cause  than  to  go  forth 
to  bathe  their  Ladyships'  faces  in  the  May-dew; 
the  which,  when  gathered  from  little  copses  and 
shadowy  nooks  before  the  sun  had  yet  shone 
upon't,  was  warranted  to  enhance  that  beauty 
which  was  already  evident,  and  to  create  those 
charms  which,  alas !  are  occasionally  lacking. 

Lady  Diana  spelled  out  her  lover's  verses  as  best 
she  could,  tripping  from  door  to  door,  and  calling 
her  young  companions  from  their  mirrors ;  sending 
a  footman  and  a  page  to  summon  the  gallants  who 
were  to  accompany  them  in  their  expedition,  and 
laughing  heartily  as  she  made  out  more  from  a 
footman  than  from  Kennaston's  muse  that  he  had 
betaken  himself  to  town  rather  than  longer  incur 
her  displeasure  and  her  frowns. 

"Bless  me,  but  my  suitor's  in  a  fine  pickle! 
192 


GOES      TO       TOWN 

Lud !  though,  I'm  not  disposed  to  have  these 
hussies  a-laying  six  to  four  on  my  bein'  ready  to 
jump  at  his  offer;  still,  I'd  rather  he'd  stopped 
over,  or  else  that  some  one  most  amusin'  were  here ; 
for  instance  Sir  Robin  McTart,  which  is  not  to 
be!" 

Then  a-rapping  at  the  doors,  and  laughter 
from  girlish  lips;  pattering  of  heels  down  the 
hall  and  stair-case;  out  to  meet  the  gentlemen, 
bowing  and  complimenting  on  the  terrace;  over 
the  lawns,  and  through  the  flower-gardens,  and 
past  the  offices  and  stables,  where  Lord  Brookwood, 
even  thus  early,  was  sunning  himself  in  the  yard, 
and  talking  over  county  matters  with  Mr.  Biggs, 
J.  P. 

"Where  to?  Where  to?"  sings  out  His  Lord 
ship  cheerily  with  hat  in  hand,  and  Mr.  Biggs 
down  to  the  ground  before  so  much  beauty,  fashion 
and  rank. 

"Off  to  the  copse,  father,"  calls  back  Diana,  "to 
gather  the  May-dew  and  wash  our  faces ;  when  we 
come  back  you  must  tell  us  all  how  much  more 
beautiful  we  are  to-day  than  we  were  yesterday !" 

With  which  lively  sally  Lady  Diana  and  the  rest 
193 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

of  'em  are  crossing  the  hill  and  laughing  as  they 
pass  out  of  sight  on  their  two  miles'  away  walk  to 
Annsleigh  Copse. 

Lord  Brookwood  is  about  to  resume  his  conver 
sation  with  Biggs,  while  the  half-dozen  grinning 
stable  boys,  behind  His  Lordship's  back,  are 
rubbing  their  fists  in  the  wet  turf  of  a  paddock, 
and  smearing  their  red  faces  with  the  dew,  the 
head-groom  touching  them  up  with  a  lash;  when 
a  whinny,  that  sets  every  animal  in  the  stalls  and 
out  of  'em  a-replying,  sets  all  the  cocks  crowing, 
hens  cackling,  chicks  peeping,  dogs  barking,  geese 
squawking,  smites  their  startled  ears,  and  yonder, 
hilly-o-ho !  Sirs ;  in  a  cloud  of  upturned  soil,  in  a 
shower  of  splash  from  the  river,  with  a  thud  on 
the  wooden  bridge,  a  bound  over  the  stone  wall 
of  the  kitchen  garden;  comes  a  black  with  nigh 
every  tooth  in  its  mouth  bared,  foaming,  smoking, 
bloody;  rider  bent  double  to  saddle's  bow,  cling 
ing  with  legs  and  arms. 

"Homing  Nell  and  the  highwayman!  Tom 
Kidde!  Tom  Kidde!" 

"Homing  Nell !"  the  shout  goes  up  from  every 


194 


GOES      TO      TOWK 

throat  there,  from  His  Lordship  to  the  'ostlers  and 
boys. 

"Tom  Kidde !    Tom  Kidde !" 

"By  Gad !  Sir,"  cries  the  Earl.  "I  knew  Nell'd 
come  back  sooner  or  later !  Surround  him.  Bag 
him !" 

Peggy  hears  the  shouts  as  the  ungovernable 
steed  lunges,  lurches,  rears  beneath  her  spurs  and 
still  tightly  gripped  reins;  she  takes  in  the  situa 
tion,  but  not  to  its  full  import,  until  she  now  hears 
the  voice  of  Biggs  uplifted. 

"Lord  Brookwood !  Lord  Brookwood !  mind  her 
heels,  My  Lord,  mind  her  heels !  Leave  the  takin' 
of  the  damned  cut-purse  to  me  and  the  boys !" 

At  the  word  "Brookwood/'  Her  Ladyship  real 
izes  that  she  is  on  the  domains  of  Lady  Diana's 
father!  and  being  mistaken  for  a  Knight  of  the 
Road! 

The  latter  she  felt  she  could  easily  abide,  and 
as  easily  refute ;  but  the  former  was  more  than  even 
her  spent  spirit  could  stand.  So,  as  Biggs,  His 
Lordship,  the  grooms,  the  stable-boys  and  'ostlers 
and  helpers  all  formed  into  a  ring  with  whips, 
canes,  stones  and  halloos  to  take  her  prisoner,  she 
195 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

plucked  up  courage  from  the  depths,  and,  raising 
herself  in  her  saddle  and  her  head  in  the  air,  with 
one  superhuman  tug  at  the  bridle  and  prick  with 
the  steels,  she  made  to  get  off !  and  away !  But  Her 
Ladyship's  nerve  was  not  the  equal  of  Homing 
Nell's,  nor  yet  to  be  pitted  with  success  against  the 
waving  arms  and  jumping  legs  of  a  dozen  stout 
men,,  With  the  final  crack  of  the  head-groom's 
lash  about  her  heels,  with  the  pop  in  the  air  above 
her  hat  of  Mr.  Biggs's  blunderbuss,  caught  from 
the  hand  of  one  of  the  lads,  "Homing  Nell"  was 
brought  to  a  quivering  stand-still,  and  My  Lady 
Peggy  to  bay  in  the  stable-yard  of  Brookwood 
Castle ! 

"Ha !"  cries  the  Earl,  "my  pretty  fellow,  you're 
trapped  at  last!  The  night  you  stole  the  black 
mare  from  me  I  shouted  after  you,  as  well  as  the 
gag  at  my  mouth  would  permit,  that  she'd  bring 
you  no  luck,  and  that  muscles  of  iron  wouldn't 
hold  her  the  day  she  made  up  her  mind  to  get 
home." 

Peggy,  glad  of  the  use  of  her  lungs  once  more, 
and  now  nigh  bursting  with  laughter  at  being  so 
glibly  mistook  for  one  of  the  most  reckless  fellows 
196 


•  OES      TO      TOWN 

in  all  England,  took  off  her  hat,  bowed  low,  and 
said: 

"My  Lord  Brookwood,  'tis,  I  believe,  I  have  the 
honor  of  addressing?" 

"Ho !  ho !  ho !"  Mr.  Biggs,  from  a  survey  of  the 
saddle-bow  now  bursts  out  in  triumphant  joyful- 
ness. 

"'Od's  blood,  My  Lord!  but  here's  luck,  here's 
justice,  here's  what  comes  of  my  bein'  here  when  I 
am!"  and  Mr.  Biggs  now  holds  aloft  upon  the 
point  of  his  stick  the  black  mask  of  Master  Tom 
Kidde,  which  the  rogue  had  dropped  when  he  was 
hit,  and  which  had  caught  and  hung  by  its  riband 
from  that  moment  to  this,  unseen  by  Lady  Peg. 

"Highwayman !  highwayman !  highwayman !" 
yells  every  lung  in  the  place,  while  the  whole  dozen, 
including  His  Lordship  and  the  Justice,  threaten 
Lady  Peggy  with  their  cudgels,  lashes  and  stones. 

"I  pray  ye,  My  Lord,  Gentlemen,  and  good  fel 
lows!"  cries  she,  remembering  now  the  entire  his 
tory  of  the  animal  she  bestrides,  as  rehearsed  some 
six  hours  earlier  by  Beau  Brummell  and  Mr.  Vane. 
"I  am  no  highwayman." 

A  groan  of  derision  greets  this  announcement. 
197 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

"Nay,  but  the  rather  am  I  the  victim  of  Tom 
Kidde,  than  he  himself!  Together  with  a  party 
of  my  friends,  being  at  mid-night  last,  on  the 
return  from  a  visit  to  Mr.  BrummelPs  seat,  Ivy 
Dene,  we  were  set  upon  by  the  rogues  in  the  midst 
of  Epstowe  Forest ;  I  had  the  luck,  both  good  and 
bad,  to  put  a  ball  into  Tom,  to  get  my  horse  shot 
under  me,  and  to  mount  the  scoundrel's  steed,  the 
which  has  brought  me  to  Your  Lordship's  door, 
and  the  mare,  herself,  to  where  she  belongs,  it 
seems !" 

"A  damned  fine  story,  'fore  George !"  exclaims 
Biggs,  laughing  triumphantly,  now  holding  up  two 
watches,  three  rings,  a  diamond  snuff-box,  a  seal, 
two  magnificent  pins,  and  a  most  splendid  jeweled 
stomacher,  high  above  his  head  in  the  tip  of  the 
sunshine. 

"'Sdeath!"  cried  Lord  Brookwood,  seizing  one 
of  the  trinkets  and  examining  it  with  his  spy-glass. 
"What's  this  ?  'Percy  de  Bohun,  Christmas  from 
his  aff.  mother,' "  reads  His  Lordship.  Then  an 
other,  "  '"Wyatt  Lovell  souvenir  of  Italy !'  Gad, 
Biggs,"  looking  Her  Ladyship  over,  where  she  still 
sits  atop  of  the  steaming  black,  "we've  got  the 
198 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

cursed  blackguard  this  time!     What  else  in  his 
saddle  pockets  ?  aught  ?" 

These  Biggs,  assisted  by  the  head-groom,  is  ener 
getically  emptying  of  a  miscellaneous  collection  of 
valuables,  while  Lady  Peggy  looks  on  in  amaze 
ment  as  yet  only  flavored  with  amusement,  and  one 
more  vain  regret  for  her  abandoned  petticoats. 

"Yes,  My  Lord,  these  thousands  of  pounds' 
worth,"  replied  the  Justice,  holding  aloft  his 
treasure  trove ;  "and  it'll  be  a  short  shrift  for  the 
devil,  I  can  say  that." 

"Hark  ye,"  now  says  Her  Ladyship,  as  she  re 
calls  with  a  not  unnatural  tremor  the  death-war 
rant  she  had  heard  was  lying  to  hand  in  Mr. 
Biggs's  pocket.  "Lord  Brookwood,  I  am  no  high 
wayman;  my  story  is  true;  I  am" — the  words 
stuck  in  Peggy's  throat;  she  coughed,  the  stable 
boys  tittered;  then  the  head-groom  tilted  the  sad 
dle  and  spilled  her  out  of  it  to  the  ground;  at  a 
word  from  Biggs,  a  couple  of  the  men  tied  her, 
hand  and  foot,  with  a  stout  rope,  and  a  pair  of 
farming  reins  about  her  middle. 

"Now  who  do  you  call  yourself,  my  fine  fellow  ?" 
says  His  Lordship. 

199 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

"Sir  Eobin  McTart  of  Kobinswold,  Kent !"  cries 
Peggy,  glad  to  be  able  to  answer  without  the  lie 
direct.  "And  I  demand  instant  freedom  and  im 
munity/'  cries  she,  tortured  and  quivering  beneath 
the  rude  hands  and  ruder  gibes  of  the  grooms  and 
'ostlers. 

"Demand  away !  my  pretty  buck-skin,  with  your 
jeweled  hilt !"  returns  Biggs,  stripping  the  weapon 
from  her  thigh.  "Your  satin  breeches  and  gold- 
laced  waistcoat !  'Tain't  no  use  denyin'  you  your 
speech,  and  your  will  to  palaver  on  whatever  mat 
ter  you  will,  for  before  the  clock  strikes  eight, 
you'll  be  home  with  your  father  in  hell." 

"Tut,  tut,  Mr.  Biggs,"  says  His  Lordship.  "Call 
Mr.  Frewen,  the  Curate,  he's  at  his  studies  in  the 
library,  we  bavin'  sat  late  over  our  cards  last  night ; 
and  let  him  have  his  prayer-book  to  hand,  open  at 
the  page  for  malefactors  after  condemnation." 

"Go,  you,  Michael,"  this  to  one  of  the  now  awe 
struck  lads  hanging,  staring  at  Peg  over  the  pad 
dock  paling.  "Ask  Mr.  Frewen  to  come  quickly." 

"But  this  is  monstrous,  Sir!"  cries  Her  Lady 
ship,  now  thoroughly  alarmed,  and  near  to  losing 
her  wits  betwixt  her  endeavors  to  keep  up  her  man's 
200 


&OES      TO      TOWN 

estate,  her  contempt  of  her  own  frowardness,  her 
shame  at  being  thus  at  the  mercy  of  her  rival's 
parent,  and  her  actual  terror  of  her  position. 

"I  do  beseech  you,  I  am  an  honest  person,  my 
tale  is  true.  Is  it  not  but  the  justice  due  to  any 
subject  of  His  Majesty's,  however  humble,  that  he 
should  not  be  condemned  before  he  is  tried,  or 
even  his  identity  proven  ?" 

"I'll  be  sworn,  My  Lord,"  exclaims  Biggs,  "  'tis 
a  voice  and  air  to  wheedle  fine  ladies  out  of  their 
stomachers  and  chains,  but  not  to  tempt  the  law. 
Sirrah!"  he  continues,  addressing  himself  to  Her 
Ladyship,  who  is  by  this  firmly  tied  to  a  post  like 
a  colt  about  to  be  broken  to  harness.  "  'Tain't  no 
use  for  you  to  be  imaginin'  as  justice  and  His 
Majesty  ain't  a-doing  their  best  for  you.  Here 
have  you  been  a  terror  to  all  God-fearing,  law-abid 
ing  Englishmen  any  time  these  half-dozen  of  years. 
A-poundin'  every  heath  in  England,  Hornslow, 
Bagshott,  and  all  the  commons,  Wimbledon, 
Wandsworth,  Finchley ;  a-hulking  in  Epstowe  with 
your  mates,  and  making  the  lives  of  travelers  a 
burden  most  horrible ;  ain't  you  secreted  uncount 
able  pounds'  worth  of  plunder  in  your  devilish 
201 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

caves  and  dens?  Haven't  you  left  the  earth 
strewed  with  corpses  in  your  ugly  path?  Answer 
me,  Sir!"  and  Mr.  Biggs  stamps  his  foot  on  the 
ground. 

"No,  Sir !"  shouts  Peg,  "I  ain't  and  haven't,  and 
I'm  not !  'Slife,  My  Lord  Brookwood,"  cries  she 
in  a  terrible  way,  twisting  her  tied  hands  together. 
"Tor  God's  sake,  send  up  to  town  post-haste,  and 
find  out  Mr.  Brummell,  Mr.  Vane,  Mr.  Chalmers, 
Lord  Escombe,  Sir  Lovell  Wyatt !" 

But  His  Lordship  has  turned  up  the  path  toward 
the  Castle  and  met  Mr.  Frewen,  to  whom  he  is 
explaining  the  necessities  of  the  situation. 

'Tis  such  a  fair  May  day,  with  bud  and  blossom, 
bough  and  bird;  fowls,  men,  beasts,  all  free  of 
tether,  and  My  Lady  is  like  to  weep;  cry  out  her 
sex,  her  very  name  and  estate,  as  she  feels  the  gall 
upon  her  wrists  and  ankles,  and  knows  what  fate 
awaits  her. 

She  even,  for  one  weak  moment,  thinks  she  will 
implore  Lord  Brookwood  to  send  up  to  London 
for  her  rival,  his  own  daughter,  Lady  Diana,  and 
let  her  come  down  and  tell  him  who  is  Sir  Eobin 


202 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

McTart — for  Lady  Peggy  believes  Lady  Di  to  be 
in  town  and  has  no  knowledge  to  the  contrary. 

Yet,  there  in  the  stable-yard,  with  imprisonment 
as  she  supposes,  and  even  death  dangling  for  her 
at  no  great  loss  of  time,  with  her  liberty  gone; 
her  word  no  better  than  a  thief's ;  with  no  earthly 
hand  upraised  to  sustain  her,  My  Lady  Peggy's 
stout  heart  does  not  flutter  to  dismay.  For  that 
one  brief  instant  'tis,  without  doubt,  in  her  mind 
to  confess  and  fling  herself  upon  the  mercy  of  the 
Earl  and  the  Curate,  who  now  draw  nigh;  but 
when  she  reflects  upon  the  monstrous  tissue  of  her 
deceits,  and  the  unutterable  shame  of  the  exposure 
of  the  cause  of  them,  'tis  then  she  is  like  to  whim 
per,  but  for  naught  else. 

Mr.  Frewen  approaches;  'tis  a  young  man  of  a 
pale  cadaverous  countenance,  whose  first  bow  to  a 
highwayman  is  indeed,  though  he  find  him  in 
durance  vile,  a  timid  one. 

The  supposed  Tom  Kidde  gives  the  man  of  the 
cloth  eye  for  eye,  so  that  this  one  quails  and 
stumbles  in  his  speech ;  and  finally,  leaving  in  the 
rear  all  his  preconceived  plans  for  a  hasty  refonna- 


203 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

tion,  lie  promptly  remarks,  opening  his  prayer- 
book  to  the  riband : 

"You  know  your  doom,  Mr.  Kidde ;  shall  I  pray 
for  you  here  ?" 

"Faith!"  says  Lady  Peggy,  plucking  up  heart, 
once  her  resolution  is  taken  not  to  reveal  her  secret, 
come  what  may.  "I  do  not  know  my  doom,  Sir ! 
It  seems  sufficient  'doom'  for  an  honest  English 
gentleman,  who  has  met  with  a  mishap,  to  be 
brought  to  a  nobleman's  threshold  and  get  foul 
treatment  rather  than  welcome.  Pray  for  me,  Sir, 
an  you  will,  there's  none  so  much  deserves  or  needs 
it.  Pray  on !" 

"Frewen !"  beckons  His  Lordship,  as  he  watches 
the  'ostlers  rubbing  down  the  restored  Homing 
Nell,  and  confers  with  Mr.  Biggs  as  to  the  plunder 
and  the  meting  out  of  justice.  "Frewen,  gain  the 
wretch's  confidence  an  you  can,  the  whereabouts  of 
all  the  gold  and  jewels  he  has  stolen;  my  watch. 
And  also,  if  he  have  wife  or  child,  it  might  not  be 
amiss,  eh,  Biggs?  to  inquire  if  he  have  any  mes 
sage  for  them?" 

"Aye,  My  Lord  "  puts  in  the  pompous  Biggs, 


204 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

up-looking  from  his  perusal  of  a  long,  sealed,  im 
portant-appearing  parchment,  unrolled  before  his 
eyes.  "By  ascertaining  their  whereabouts,  we 
should  perhaps  get  the  clue  to  all  the  bloody  ras 
cal's  pelf." 

A  combination  of  Christian  charity  and  official 
shrewdness,  which  commended  itself  highly  to  His 
Lordship,  as  he  sent  the  Curate  back  to  the  com 
forting  of  the  malefactor  across  the  yard. 

"Hark  ye,  Mr.  Kidde,"  says  Mr.  Frewen,  lower 
ing  his  voice,  and,  for  the  credit  of  his  soul,  with 
gentleness  at  his  heartstrings. 

"I'm  not  Mr.  Kidde,  I  tell  you,  I  swear't !"  says 
Her  Ladyship  firmly. 

"Well,  well/'  says  the  man  of  the  Church,  "may 
hap  that's  an  assumed  name ;  but  surely,  now,  Sir, 
with  not  two  hours  of  life  left  you,  to  me,  me  alone, 
Sir,  it  were  wiser  drop  all  disguises.  Surely  now 
you  are  not  Sir  Eobin  McTart?"  in  a  soothing 
and  sorrowful  tone. 

Peggy  winces. 

"Go  seek  and  ask  all  the  noblemen  and  gentle 
men  I've  named,  Sir,  they'll  quickly  set  me  to 


205 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

rights  in  your  eyes,  I  pledge  you.  Oh,  Sir,  foi 
the  love  of  God !"  cries  she,  whispering  very  low. 
"I  speak  the  truth !  I  am  no  highwayman." 

"I  am  used  to  quibbles,  Mr.  Kidde ;  I  know  that 
now  you  are  no  robber,  but  merely  a  prisoner  under 
sentence  of  death." 

"What !"  cries  she.  "  'Tis  not  possible  that  a 
man  is  taken,  tried,  disallowed  to  prove  himself, 
and  put  out  of  the  world,  betwixt  sunrise  and 
breakfast,  in  the  reign  of  His  Majesty  George  the 
Third !" 

"  'Tis  so,"  answers  the  Curate,  pulling  the  rope 
and  leathers,  and  pushing  Her  Ladyship  around  a 
bit  toward  the  east,  as  he  points  what  he  considers 
a  salutary  finger.  "Yonder's  the  gibbet,  Mr. 
Kidde,  and  from  it  you  must  hang  by  eight.  I 
implore  of  you  now — " 

Lady  Peggy's  eyes  are  fastened  upon  the  arms 
and  cross-beams  of  the  gallows,  which  are  outlined 
clearly  against  the  deep  blue  sky,  and  full  in  the 
shine  of  the  spring  sun. 

"Well,"  says  she  to  herself,  all  in  a  flash,  as 
thoughts  can  travel  three  abreast  ofttimes,  and 
twelve  times  quicker  than  the  scrivener  can  set 
206 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

'em  down — "I've  been  a  very  accursedly  wicked 
girl ;  but,  thank  God !  my  pride  ain't  all  gone  yet. 
I'll  hang !  but  I'll  never  give  up  my  secret !  When 
I'm  gone,  if  they  find  it  out — I  won't  be  here  to  be 
a-hearin'  of  the  taunts  and  jeers  and  sympathies; 
and  of  my  mother's  and  father's  sorrows!"  At 
this  point  Peggy  is  very  near  to  tears,  when  the 
Curate  says,  interrupting  their  possible  flow : 

"Now,  Mr.  Kidde,  if  you  have  any  message  for 
— your  wife — perhaps?"  he  ejaculates  hesitatingly, 
and  with  good  knowledge  that  the  marriage  cere 
mony  was  one  usually  omitted  from  the  code  of 
gentlemen  of  the  road. 

"I  have  no  wife !"  cries  Her  Ladyship,  in  a  heat 
betwixt  her  remorse  for  her  parents  and  the  un 
conscious  ridiculousness  of  Mr.  Frewen's  ques 
tion. 

"Or  it  might  be,"  suggests  this  one  with  a  sigh, 
"you  have  a  little  child,  Mr.  Kidde—?" 

"No,  Sir,"  says  My  Lady  very  low  and  quick. 
"That  I  haven't." 

"A  dear  friend  and  comrade?"  pursues  the 
Curate. 

"Yes,  I  have,"  answers  she,  for  during  all  this 
207 


II  Y      LADY      PEGGY 

hour  just  past,  a  thousand  thoughts  hare  come  to 
Peggy  about  Sir  Percy. 

"Ah/'  responds  Frewen  joyously.  "Now  tell 
me  where  he's  to  be  found,  and  entrust  me  with  the 
message,  and  be  assured  all  will  be  carried  out  to 
your  wishes." 

"Thank  you,"  says  Peggy.  "Free  my  right  hand 
if  you  will ;  give  me  something  to  write  with,  and 
the  leaf  out  of  your  prayer-book,  and  I'll  ask  you 
the  favor." 

The  Curate,  under  the  strict  superintendence  of 
Biggs,  who  has  all  this  while  been  dispatching  boys 
on  horses,  hither  and  yon,  to  notify  the  quality  and 
the  country  side  both,  that  Tom  Kidde's  been  taken 
and  will  hang  at  eight  from  the  gibbet  a-top  of 
Armsleigh  Hill,  loosens  Her  Ladyship's  arm  of  the 
thong,  and  gives  her  a  leaf  and  a  pencil  with  the 
top  of  the  post  for  a  support. 

"To  Sir  Percy  de  Bohun,  Charlotte  Street,  Lon 
don,"  writes  she.  "plese  An  you  lov  God  And  The 
Kinge  goe  not  evar  Again  toe  walke  onne  The  dove 
peere  at  The  Bottomme  of  littel  Boye  yarde 
Their  isse  onne  swares  Toe  Kille  you  &  you  doe 
This  isse  writ  bye  onne  now  noe  more." 
208 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

Her  Ladyship  folds  the  scrap  of  paper  over  and 
over;  hands  back  the  pencil  to  Mr.  Frewen;  and 
then  she  says: 

"Sir,  will  you  promise  me  on  that  Book  you're 
holding  in  your  hand,  you'll  not  look  at  this  or 
send  it  until  I'm  dead  ?" 

"I  will,"  answers  the  young  man,  more  touched 
than  he  cares  to  admit,  even  to  himself. 

"And  further,"  says  she,  "will  you  pledge  me 
your  word  it  shall  reach  him  it's  intended  for  be 
fore  this  time  Sunday  ?" 

"I  will,"  is  the  reply,  "unless  it  be  in  the  depths 
of  Epstowe  and  inaccessible  to  my  horse  or  my 
self." 

"  'Tis  in  London,  Sir,  and  quite  accessible.  'Tie 
a  warning  for  life  and  death,  and  I'll  count  you 
fail  me  not,  nor  him  whose  life  you'd  be  the 
means  of  saving." 

"I  pledge  my  word,  Mr.  Kidde,"  replies  the 
Curate,  backing  away  to  make  room  for  Justice 
Biggs,  and  with  the  very  laudable  sensation  in  his 
mind  that  he  is  to  be  the  instrument  of  preserving 
some  unknown  from  the  clutches  of  the  doubtless 
repentant  outlaw's  own  men. 
209 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

In  less  than  five  minutes  after,  Biggs  had  mar 
shaled  his  cavalcade  and  rode  forth  of  the  stable- 
yard  of  Brookwood  Castle;  his  white  cob  at  the 
head,  a-holding  in  his  left  hand  the  duly  signed 
warrant  for  the  execution  of  one  Thomas  Kidde. 
Following  him,  strode  the  hastily  summoned  Mas 
ter  William  Lambe,  the  butcher,  who  was  to  do 
duty  as  hangman  (sooth  to  say,  hangings  were 
rare  in  this  county,  and  there  was  no  one  appointed 
by  law  to  the  office,  it  being  thus  left  to  the  discre 
tion  of  the  Justice). 

The  Earl,  mounted,  rode  next  with  a  dozen  of 
his  servants,  and  in  the  midst  of  these  My  Lady 
Peggy,  astride  of  the  black  once  more,  but  with 
face  to  tail,  hands  tied  together,  and  no  hat  to  her 
head;  Mr.  Frewen  at  her  side  walking;  a  motley 
crowd  growing  and  gathering  at  every  step,  about 
her,  of  gaping,  wondering,  jubilant  and  curious 
persons  of  all  ages,  sexes,  and  conditions. 

Never  a  whimper  out  of  My  Lord,  the  Earl  of 
Exham's  only  daughter.  A  set  rigid  look  about  the 
drawn  lips,  and  an  unearthly  pallor  shining 
through  all  the  dark  stains  Her  Ladyship  had 
been  a-using  of  late. 

210 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

"Not  a  word  did  she  say,  save  to  ask  Mr.  Frewen 
to  read  the  Declaration  of  Absolution  or  Remission 
of  Sins  out  of  his  prayer-book  as  they  went ;  which 
he  did  under  his  breath,  and  much  jolted  by  the 
rough  highway,  which  now  the  procession  had 
gained;  and  likewise  laying  much  unction  to  his 
soul  that,  in  so  short  a  space  of  time,  his  com 
fortable  ministrations  had  produced  so  seeming 
abundant  godly  results ! 

When  he  had  finished  Her  Ladyship  said, 
"Amen,"  and  thereafter  held  up  her  head  with  that 
courage  which  is  born  of  one  of  two  things,  con 
scious  innocence  or  a  profound  repentance  for  sins, 
which,  while  to  others  they  may  appear  puerile, 
to  the  offender  are  worthy  of  the  wrath  of  the 
Creator  and  the  condemnation  of  man. 

She  noted  the  hawthorn  in  the  hedges,  the  dew 
upon  the  turf;  the  tall  mawkin  swaying  in  the 
wind  in  the  middle  of  a  newly  sown  field ;  and,  as 
her  lids  raised,  the  mustering  crowds,  all  with 
steps  bent,  and  greedy  eyes  fixed,  yonder  to  the 
hill-top  where  the  gibbet  stood,  and  where  the  new 
rope  dangled  for  her  neck. 

Yet  she  made  no  sign. 

211 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

even  when  she  heard  the  rabble  laying  their 
groats  and  sixpences,  that  Kidde  would,  or 
wouldn't  "die  game." 


212 


XII 

Rehearseth  how,  in  the  very  nick  o'  time, 

Her  Ladyship's  neck  is  saved  from 

the  noose  by  Sir  Percy. 

As  yet,  in  the  depths  of  Armsleigh  Copse,  no 
news  of  the  supposed  highwayman's  capture  had 
penetrated,  although  the  Earl,  with  commendable 
foresight  in  behalf  of  the  entertainment  of  his 
young  daughter  and  her  companions,  had  sent  a 
messenger  to  impart  the  sight  shortly  to  be  had; 
the  messenger,  having  a  sweetheart  in  the  other  di 
rection,  must  needs  go  apprise  her  first!  So  the 
gay  Ladies  and  their  cavaliers  sat  on  fallen  logs, 
strolled  hither  and  yon,  knelt  to  sop  their  bits  of 
linen  in  the  dewy  hollows,  laughed,  chatted,  dabbed 
their  faces,  now  lacking  any  coat  of  crimson,  save 
213 


that  which  Nature  might  have  vouchsafed,  and 
made  great  show  of  a  fine  rural  simplicity. 

"La!"  cried  the  Honorable  Dolly.  "Water 
hasn't  touched  my  face  before  since  know  I  not 
when !"  pecking  at  her  cheeks  with  the  corner  of 
her  pocket-napkin.  "But  it  has  a  monstrous  re 
freshing  sensation !" 

"Oh,  Doll,  'tis  not  thus  and  so  you  must  apply 
it,  as  'twere  some  French  essence  worth  its  weight 
in  guineas ;  but  look !"  cried  Lady  Diana,  flopping 
down  and  burying  her  face  in  a  bath  of  the  dew- 
drops,  and  laughing  as  she  looks  up  dripping. 

"That's  the  way,  faith,"  coincides  Lady  Biddy, 
scrubbing  her  own  round  cheeks  with  her  wrung 
out  linen,  then  both  fists  into  her  blue  eyes  to  dry 
off  the  winkers. 

"  'Slife,  Ladies !"  exclaims  one  of  the  gentlemen, 
"but  you  almost  tempt  us  to  follow  your  example.'* 

"Hither,  ye  gossoon,"  answers  Lady  Biddy,  "an* 
I'll  be  afther  makin'  your  countenance  shine. 
Hark !  Hoofs !" 

"Hoofs !    Hoofs !"  cry  all  these  fair  ones,  a-d.art- 
ing  this  way  and  that,  stuffing  their  napkins  into 
their  bodices,  as  a  courteous  voice,  with  a — 
214 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

"By  your  leave,  Ladies  and  Sirs !"  greets  them, 
and  none  other  than  Sir  Percy,  self  and  horse 
spent  in  his  fruitless  search  for  the  supposed  Sir 
Robin,  emerges  from  the  bridle-path  across  the 
common,  at  the  edge  of  the  copse. 

"The  top  of  the  morning  to  you,  Sir  Percy  de 
Bohun,"  laughs  Lady  Biddy. 

"Percy!"  exclaims  Lady  Diana,  "prithee,  what 
are  you  doing  out  of  doors  at  this  hour?" 

"Seeking  May-dew !  mayhap,"  suggests  the  Hon 
orable  Dolly. 

"But  nay,  Your  Ladyships,"  returns  he.  "I  am 
seeking  Sir  Robin  McTart." 

And  forthwith  Sir  Percy  proceeds  to  give  them 
a  history  of  the  adventures  of  the  night,  omitting 
no  smallest  detail  of  the  prowess  of  Sir  Robin. 
He  has  just  concluded  his  recital  amid  a  burst  of 
tumultuous  "Ohs !  ahs !  Luds !"  and  a  vast  deal  of 
commiserating  sympathy,  and  a  monstrous  collec 
tion  of  pretty  oaths  and  curses  for  Tom  Kidde, 
when  into  the  center  of  this  colloquy  jumps  Lord 
Brookwood's  messenger,  nudging  his  sweetheart 
behind  a  tree,  to  tell  as  best  he  can  his  errand.  To 
bid  all  the  company  at  once  to  see  the  sight,  it  now 
215 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

not  lacking  more  than  the  quarter  to  the  hour 
when  Mr.  Lambe  will  adjust  the  noose,  and  send 
one  of  the  boldest  and  most  courtly  young  outlaws 
of  his  day  a-swinging  to  his  deserts. 

This  information,  it  may  be  imagined,  was  re 
ceived  with  acclaim  of  all,  and  by  Sir  Percy  with 
positive  joy;  his  only  regret,  as,  dismounting  and 
leading  his  jaded  horse,  he  walked  at  Lady  Diana's 
side,  being  that  Sir  Eobin  had  so  contrived  to  give 
them  the  slip,  and  not  even  to  have  the  happiness 
of  witnessing  justice  done  the  rogue  who  had  so 
near  deprived  him  of  existence. 

"Here's  to  drive  off  the  vapors  an  any  one  had 
'em !"  cried  the  lively  Lady  Biddy,  swinging  her 
hat  by  its  ribands.  "And  sure'n  it's  not  believed 
I'll  be,  when  I  get  home  to  County  Cork  and  tell 
'em  I  saw  a  highwayman  strung  up !" 

"Faith,  Di,"  says  Sir  Percy,  "'twas  a  lucky 
chance  for  the  whole  country  when  the  rascal  made 
off  with  your  father's  famous  black !" 

"That  was  it !"  answered  she.    "The  time  always 

comes  when  no  man's  muscle  on  earth  can  hold 

Homing  Nell;  and  'twas  a  fine  fortune,  by  my 

life !  when  Tom  Kidde  essayed  to  ride  her.    'Twas 

216 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

a  wonder  he  didn't  jump  and  ran  for  his  life, 
though/'  adds  she  thoughtfully. 

"Zounds  !  there's  a  sort  of  devil-may-care  humor 
in  the  composition  of  those  fellows  that  keeps  'em 
sticking  in  any  saddle  they  leap  into,  until  the 
beast's  bestridden  that  can  throw  them  out  of  it. 
They're  so  used  to  taking  chances,  I  doubt  if  they 
ever  dream  of  danger  until  it's  too  late !" 

"When'll  we  see  the  gibbet?"  asks  the  Hon 
orable  Dolly,  panting  with  her  quick  pace. 

"Soon,"  answers  Lady  Di. 

"Ochone,  an'  I  hope  we'll  not  be  afther  bein'  too 
late  to  see  it  all !"  chimes  in  Lady  Biddy  short- 
breathed  too. 

"Percy,"  says  Diana,  "up  in  your  saddle  and 
spy,  for  I'd  not  have  us  miss  so  fine  a  sight  for  a 
hundred  pounds!" 

"No  sooner  said  than  done !"  answers  Sir  Percy 
de  Bohun,  from  atop  of  his  horse,  where  he  shades 
his  eyes  with  his  hand  and  gazes  off  to  the  hill 
where  the  gibbet  stands. 

"Good  God !"  cries  he,  clapping  spurs  that  send 
spurts  of  blood  into  the  eyes  of  one  of  the  gentle 
men,  and  a  shower  of  sand  all  over  the  whole 
217 


party,  and  away  with  him !  Tearing  up  the  turf 
as  he  goes ;  into  the  midst  of  the  strings  of  gaping, 
jostling,  hurrying  folk;  scattering  'em  right  and 
left,  leaving  'em  in  his  wake  dumfounded,  pick 
ing  each  other  up.  Through  the  high  street  of 
Brook-Armsleigh  Village,  clatter !  dash !  plunge ! 
with  prick  and  urge,  and  goad  of  thigh  and  lash  I 
and  straining,  starting  eyes  fixed  on  the  face  he 
sees  outlined  against  the  fair  blue  morning  sky; 
the  brave  undaunted  face,  dark,  under  its  yellow 
hair,  bearing  the  strange  likeness  to  His  Lady — 
His  Lady !  nay,  this  is  His  Lady's  lord  and  love, 
for  whom  he  rides, — and  with  noose  about  his 
neck  now,  and  man-of-cloth  and  man-of-blood 
both  at  hand;  this  one  with  book,  that  one  with 
cap,  the  sea  of  open  faces  seething  breathless  all 
around. 

"On !  on !"  whispers  Percy  bending  to  the  bow, 
and  whispering  hoarsely  to  the  long  roan,  his  very 
soul  in  tremor,  his  lips  parched,  his  forehead  and 
lip  dripping  sweat. 

Into  the  midst  of  'em;  nearly  throwing  Lord 
Brookwood  from  his  seat;  off  his  beast  like  a 
thunderbolt,  and  with  a  long  leap  up  on  the 
218 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

boards  beside  Lambe,  the  butcher,  and  Biggs,  the 
Justice,  and  Frewen,  the  Curate. 

"By  God !  Sirs,"  cries  he,  "what's  this  ye're  do 
ing?  This  gentleman's  Sir  Robin  McTart  of 
Robinswold,  Kent!"  tearing  the  hemp  from  Her 
Ladyship's  throat,  from  her  wrists;  pushing  away 
the  three  of  'em,  and  half  lifting  the  supposed 
Baronet  in  his  lusty  arms,  he  drags,  carries,  swinge 
Peg  down  to  the  ground,  and  up  into  his  own 
saddle. 

And  then  the  explanations !  the  astonishments ; 
the  monstrous  wonder  of  it.  The  humility,  the 
subjection,  the  apologies;  the  supplications  of  all 
these  Lords,  Gentlemen,  Ladies,  worthies,  wor 
ships,  vagabonds  and  multitudes. 

Woman-like,  as  she  sits  there  for  a  few  moments, 
dazed,  so  sudden  fetched  from  death  to  life,  she 
has  but  the  thought  that  'tis  to  him  she  loves  she 
owes  deliverance. 

But  none  of  their  hospitality  or  amends  will  she 
have,  or  even  listen  to ;  no  tarrying  at  Brookwood 
Castle ;  no  smallest  glance  back  for  all  the  wheedles 
and  coaxes  of  Lady  Diana,  Lady  Biddy,  the  Hon- 


219 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

orable  Dolly  and  the  rest.     All  she  asks,  and  gets, 
is  her  scrawl  from  Mr.  Frewen. 

Courtly  acceptance  of  Lord  Brook-wood's  abject 
attempts  at  amends ;  gracious  bows,  hands,  words, 
laughter  at  last;  and  My  Lady  in  a  hastily  pro-, 
cured  post-chaise  bids  the  gibbet  at  Brook-Arms-1 
leigh  Village  farewell,  and  starts  for  London, 
where  she  swears  she's  due  and  must  not  fail  of 
being,  for  to-morrow,  Sunday. 

Sir  Percy,  too,  affirms,  he  must  up  to  town  with 
out  delay,  to  have  the  honor  and  pleasure  of  him 
self  rehearsing  at  Will's  the  splendid  courage  of 
Sir  Robin,  and  his  almost  miraculous  escape  from 
a  horrible  and  ignominious  death. 

In  truth  Percy  longed,  after  the  excitements  of 
the  past  four-and-twenty  hours,  to  be  alone;  to 
seek,  as  was  his  wont  of  late,  in  some  unfrequented, 
obscure  part  of  the  town,  such  as  the  desolate 
neighborhood  of  the  Dove  Pier,  an  opportunity  to 
ponder  upon  Lady  Peggy;  to  guess  fruitlessly  of 
her  whereabouts;  to  curse  himself,  and  Sir  Robin 
•who  had,  with  a  good  cause,  he  generously  allowed, 
so  known  how  to  win  her  from  him;  to  marvel 
ILOW,  at  ev'ry  turn,  this  same  Baronet  appeared  to 
220 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

become  entangled  in  his  own  matters;  to  question 
if  Peggy  were  indeed  now  the  lawful  wedded  wife 
of  this  gentleman  from  Kent.  In  brief,  to  pester 
Fate  with  queries  and  surmises  far  too  numerous 
and  intricate  to  set  down. 

Thus  upon  reflection,  he  purposely  absented  him 
self,  after  his  first  visit  to  Will's  on  reaching  Lon 
don,  from  either  of  the  chocolate  or  coffee-houses, 
which  he  was  accustomed  to  patronize,  knowing 
full  well  that  the  most  pressing  and  absorbing 
things  he  should  hear  would  all  have  Sir  Robin 
McTart  for  text.  He  did  not  even  repair  to  Mr. 
Brummell's  house  to  give  an  account  of  the  rescue 
of  the  Beau's  protege  from  the  hangman,  feeling 
unwilling  to  recount  his  own  part  in  the  affair  and 
but  too  certain  that  long  since  the  whole  matter 
would  have  traveled  to  Peter's  Court  and  into 
every  other  precinct  of  the  town.  Having,  also, 
learned  from  Lady  Diana  that  Kennaston  had 
quitted  Brookwood  Castle  in  a  dense  of  a  melan 
choly  humor,  he  did  not  either  go  to  Lark  Lane, 
(not  finding  Peg's  twin  at  the  house  in  Charlotte 
Street),  but  moped  the  Sunday  through,  thankful 
that  his  uncle  was  gone  down  into  the  country: 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

listening  to  the  church-bells;  thumbing  a  prayer- 
book  Lady  Peggy  had  given  him  one  Easter-day, 
now  five  years  since ;  finally  flinging  it  from  him ; 
pacing  up  and  down  the  hall;  side-curls  awry, 
waistcoat  unbuttoned;  ruffles  tumbled;  breeches 
wrinkled ;  mind  distract,  and  altogether  as  valiant 
a  young  gentleman  as  ever  made  a  wager  or  a  toast, 
unsheathed  a  blade,  or  mounted  a  horse,  rendered 
all  of  a-muddle  by  not  knowing  which  way  to  turn 
to  find  the  whereabouts  and  wherefores  of  a  cer 
tain  fair  lady;  which  has  been  a  state  of  affairs 
not  uncommon  to  young  gentlemen  before  this 
one's  day,  and  like  to  occur  until  the  species  is 
extinct. 

Yet,  'tis  quite  true,  too,  that  Sir  Percy's  case 
was  a  bit  out  of  the  usual,  inasmuch  as  the  mystery 
of  Lady  Peggy's  present  abiding  place  remained 
as  deep  to-day  as  'twas  a  fortnight  ago. 

"Well,  Grigson,"  asked  his  master,  as  his  man 
appeared  unsummoned,  "what  is  it  ?" 

"Asking  Your  Honor's  pardon,"  replies  this  one, 
"but  I  made  bold  during  Your  Honor's  absence 
from  town  to  go  down  to  Kennaston  Castle." 


222 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

"Well,  well?"  cries  Sir  Percy  excitedly,  "what 
news  ?" 

"With  submission,  Sir,"  replies  the  man,  sadly. 
"None." 

"  'Od's  blood !  you  fool !"  exclaimed  the  master. 
"Why  do  you  seek  me  with  your  'none' !  Is  Her 
Ladyship  still  from  home  ?" 

Grigson  bows. 

"And  her  mother  still  in  York?" 

Grigson  bows. 

"And  the  Earl  still  believing  his  daughter  to  be 
in  that  damned  Kent  with  her  godmother?" 

Grigson  bows  for  the  third  time. 

"And  that  cursed  Abigail  still  affirming  that 
her  mistress  is  up  in  London  ?" 

Grigson  bows  for  the  fourth  time. 

"Asking  your  pardon,  Sir  Percy,"  he  adds, 
noting  with  a  keen  and  generous  sympathy,  which 
not  infrequently  exists  in  the  hearts  of  serving- 
men  for  their  masters,  the  deepening  pallor  of  the 
young  gentleman's  countenance,  and  his  most  di 
sheveled  appearance. 

"Asking  your  pardon,  Sir,  but  whiles  I  might 
be  doing  your  wig,  which  is  most  uncommon 
223 


tousled,  I'd  make  bold  to  tell  you,  Sir,  that  Mis« 
tress  Jane  Chockey,  Lady  Peggy's  own  woman,  Sir, 
is  in  an  awful  way,  Sir !" 

"My  wig  may  go  to  the  devil,  you  idiot !"  cries 
Percy.  "What's  the  blabbing  jade's  tantrums  to 
me !  Get  out  of  my  sight." 

"With  submission,  Sir  Percy,  but  Chockey  does 
nothing  at  all  but  cry  out  her  eyes  from  morning 
till  night,  and  went  on  her  knees  a-beseechin'  me 
to  find  Her  Ladyship,  which  all  I  could  coax  out 
of  her  by  my  best  endeavors  at  wheedlin'  the 
seek,  Sir,  was  that  she  last  saw  Her  Ladyship 
standin'— " 

"Where !  where  ?"  gasps  Sir  Percy,  seizing  Mr. 
Grigson  by  the  arm  with  a  grip  of  steel. 

"Before  the  door  of  Lord  Kennaston's  lodgin's, 
Sir,  in  Lark  Lane — a — " 

"Yes?  yes?  go  on!"  with  glaring,  gazing  eyes 
fixed  on  his  man's  ruddy  visage. 

"A-talkin',  Sir,  to  some  one  a-sittin'  inside  of  a 
most  elegant  chair !" 

"Did  she  see  the  man's  face  ?"  he  asks  tensely. 

"No,  Sir  Percy ;  but  Her  Ladyship  bade  Chockey 
go  home  and  not  tarry  for  her,  and  make  such  ex- 
224 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

cuse  to  His  Lordship  as  you  have  learned  before. 
And,  asking  your  pardon  humbly,  Sir,  Mistress 
Chockey  is  of  the  opinion  that  her  young  Lady  got 
into  that  chair  and  was  carried  off,  a  willin'  wic- 
tim,  Sir,  to  the  h'altar,  and  married  to  the  con 
tents  of  the  chair,  Sir,  afore  that  wery  noon." 

"Damn  Chockey  and  her  opinions!"  mutters 
Sir  Percy,  under  his  breath,  picking  up  his  hat 
from  the  table  and  rushing  into  the  street,  nigh 
to  choking  with  his  emotions  and  his  despair. 

He  turned  the  corner,  almost  knocking  over  a 
couple  of  link-boys  in  his  path,  tossed  them  some 
pennies  for  their  tumble,  and  into  Piccadilly. 

"Fare,  Sir?  fare,  Your  Honor?  fare,  Your 
Lordship  ?"  cry  a  half-dozen  of  'em,  and  he  jumpe 
into  a  hackney  chaise  purposeless. 

"Where  to,  My  Lord  ?"  asks  the  man. 

"To  the  devil !"  replies  the  passenger,  "or  any 
where  else,  only  drive  fast  and  let  me  down  within 
walk  of  the  river." 


225 


XIII 

In  the  hereinunder  Her  Ladyship  doth  shoot 

two  varlets  at  one  fire;  and  appoint- 

eth  a  meeting  with  Sir  Robin 

at  Vauxhall. 

The  man,  who  is  shrewd,  and  has,  in  his  tin-e, 
fetched  and  carried  many  gentlemen  of  the  first 
quality  hither  and  yon,  takes  this  one's  measure 
and  sets  off  at  a  tearing  pace  down  to  the  city,  past 
the  Tower,  across  the  Bridge,  into  Southwark,  back 
over  Southwark,  up  to  Westminster ;  to  Pimlico, — 
past  the  very  Puffled  Hen  where,  at  this  very  mo 
ment,  Sir  Robin  McTart,  himself,  and  not  his  soi- 
disant,  sits  huddled  in  his  upper  room  over  a  fire, 
cheering  his  small  soul  with  dreams  of  murder 
and  love.  On  to  Chelsea,  and  a  whirligig  'round 
226 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

again  to  that  region  which  froths  foully  over  to 
the  Thames  bank  in  Little  Boy  Yard,  and  the 
jutting,  rotting,  creaking  old  Dove  Pier. 

"This  be's  a  young  nobleman,"  soliloquized  the 
cabman,  "wot's  in  love,  or  else  is  a-meditatin'  on 
a-takin'  'is  own  life,  or  a-runnin'  away  from  the 
Jews,  or  from  his  gamin'  debts,  or  I'm  not  James 
Finney.  An'  this  here's  the  spot  for  him  to  be 
dropped  at;  the  river  most  'andy,  also  deep,  and 
h'if  he's  bound  to  make  an  end  of  hisself,  no  man 
wot  owns  a  hoss  is  as  worthy  of  the  reward  wot'll 
be  published  for  the  recovery  of  His  Lordship's 
corp,  as  me."  With  which  pious  reflection  the 
chaise  is  brought  to  a  sharp  standstill,  causing 
Percy  to  start  from  his  melancholy  and  look  out 
of  the  pane. 

"Where  are  we?"  asks  he,  not  at  first,  such  is 
the  depth  of  his  suffering,  recognizing  a  spot  with 
which,  as  Sir  Eobin  had  been  at  pains  and  expense 
to  have  discovered  for  him,  he  was  indeed  of  late 
most  familiar. 

"This  be  Dove  Pier,  My  Lord,"  answered  Mr. 
James  Finney,  now  descending  from  his  box  and 
standing  respectfully  at  the  kennel. 
227 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

"Ha !     Yes,  to  be  sure.     I'll  get  out." 

He  does  so  and  pays  the  fare  with  such  a  largess 
as  makes  Mr.  Finney,  through  his  tanned  hide, 
almost  blush  to  take  it. 

"Wot's  the  odds,  though?"  remarks  he  to  him 
self,  "three  sovereigns  is  better  off  in  my  pocket 
than  actin'  as  sinkers  to  a  nobleman's  body."  To 
Sir  Percy  he  says : 

"I  thought  Your  Lordship'd  fancy  this  bit  of 
the  river;  it's  lonesome  and  wery  pleasant  and 
wery  deep.  Good-night  to  Your  Lordship,  and 
good  luck." 

"Good  luck !"  echoes  Sir  Percy,  under  his  breath, 
as  he  strides  down  the  length  of  the  rotten  pier, 
his  gaze  now  fixed  on  the  black  and  swiftly  ebbing 
tide,  now  raised  to  meet  a  sky  no  whit  the  brighter 
than  the  sobbing  waters  beneath  it.  No  stars,  nor 
moon;  only  a  sickly  thin  gleam  shot  out  of  the 
lamp  that  swings  far  up  Little  Boy  Yard  over  the 
door  of  the  tavern. 

Dark,  sad,  despairing,  the  whole  of  it,  with  but 
the  lap,  lap  of  the  Thames's  life  beating  against 
the  old  piles,  as  it  swirls  and  swings  on  its  hurry 
ing  way  to  fall  once  again  into  the  sea. 
228 


SOES      TO      TOWN 

Percy  de  Bohun  is  no  cowardly  sort,  even  to 
think  of  ending  his  woes  in  a  watery  grave;  he  is 
merely  a  brave,  sore-stricken  young  man,  whose 
whole  faith  and  heart  have  been  pinned  to  one  who 
has  forsaken  him  forever  (as  he  thinks) ;  and,  with 
the  instincts  of  his  kind,  he  is  glad  to  be  here, 
away  from  mankind  or  woman  either,  to  get  his 
grip  once  more  on  himself,  to  fight  out  for  the  last 
time,  he  swears,  the  wild,  jealous  covetousness 
which  is  tugging  at  his  heartstrings,  to  quell  the 
tumult  in  his  soul,  and  then  to  get  back  home  to 
his  uncle's  house  like  a  Christian ;  and,  God  help 
ing  him !  to  lead  a  decent  life  and  a  brave  life,  for 
King  and  country  in  the  great  new  world  across 
the  seas. 

All  this  and  more  traverses  his  brain,  the  "more" 
being  mostly  tantalizing  visions  of  Lady  Peggy  in 
all  the  gamut  of  her  humors,  slipping  in  and  out 
of  every  resolution  he  makes,  every  fond  farewell 
he  swears  he'll  take  of  her  most  dear,  most  faith 
less  memory  forever ! 

His  eyes  are  bent  upon  the  ground.  He  neither 
sees  nor  hears,  nor  would  heed  if  he  did,  aught 
about  him. 

229 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

In  truth  there  is  not  anything  to  hear,  save  the 
river  on  its  journey. 

But  there  is  something  to  see. 

Sir  Eobin's  two  desperadoes,  a-lurking  yonder 
up  in  the  close  shadow  of  the  timbered  tenements, 
which  line  the  precinct  on  the  side  where  the  oil- 
lamps  shine. 

Across  the  narrow  street,  where  the  huddling 
houses,  with  their  broken  chimneys,  rag-stuffed 
windows,  flapping  strings  of  bird-cages,  old  clothes, 
and  forlorn  archways,  are  deeper  in  gloom  even 
than  their  opposites,  there's  ambushed  another. 

One  who,  arrived  in  town  the  night  before,  and 
set  down  at  Mr.  BrummelPs  in  Peter's  Court, 
made  a  change  of  garments  and  off  again,  since 
the  master  of  the  house  was  out,  to  a  quiet  inn  in 
High  Holborn ;  spent  there  a  few  hours ;  then  out 
of  doors  and  wandered  as  far  as  the  Temple 
Church;  back  again  to  the  inn,  and,  with  rising 
excitement,  and  an  almost  frantic  and  curious  im 
patience,  awaited  the  fall  of  night ;  then  a  hackney 
coach  to  Westminster,  alighting  at  Horseferry 
Road;  dismissing  the  vehicle;  thence  afoot  to  the 
pier;  hiring  a  boat;  a  pull  alone  down  the  river 
230 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

to  Dove  Pier;  tying  the  skiff  to  a  rusty  hook;  a 
quick  run  bent  to  ground ;  up,  and  across  the  yard 
to  her  present  place  of  concealment. 

'Twas  indeed  Lady  Peggy,  her  heart  in  her 
mouth,  her  breath  coming  fiercely  betwixt  her 
tight-shut  lips,  the  drops  standing  on  her  fore 
head,  each  hand  grasping  a  pistol  ready  cocked, 
and  her  dark  eyes  pinned  to  the  two  crouching 
objects  not  three  yards  away  from  her;  anon,  fol 
lowing  the  jerks  of  these  worthies'  thumbs  as  they 
indicate  the  tall  figure  with  bent  head  still  pacing 
the  pier  back  and  forth,  she  knows  her  lover  and 
his  doom  are  nearing  each  the  other. 

Will  high  Heaven  help  her  ? 

Her  Ladyship  can  not  hear  them,  if  indeed  they 
speak  at  all,  which  is  unlikely;  the  language  of 
such  gentry  at  such  crises  consisting  usually  of 
signs.  Luckily  for  her,  the  glint  from  the  Three 
Cups,  meager  though  it  be,  falls  athwart  the  cut 
throats,  who  now  move  stealthily  down  the  yard 
toward  the  pier,  timing  their  pace  so  that  they 
shall  reach  t'other  side  of  the  rickety  float  when 
their  victim  shall  attain  the  hither.  It  falls  out 
as  they  have  designed,  and  now,  not  ten  paces  sep- 
231 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

arate  Sir  Percy  de  Bohun  from  his  end,  when 
Peggy  darts  light-footed,  having  cast  aside  her 
shoes,  down  her  side  the  kennel  to  the  pier,  bring 
ing  her  exactly  behind  the  murderers. 

With  the  slow,  precise  tread  of  beings  accus 
tomed  to  such  enterprises,  not  too  hurried  at  the 
performance  of  a  not  unsavory  task,  they  slip  over 
into  Sir  Percy's  very  wake,  Peggy  at  their  backs, 
noting  now,  with  her  pretty  nose  within  twelve 
inches  of  their  cat-like  heels,  the  gleam  of  a  dagger 
in  the  hand  of  each. 

Before  she  had  thought,  the  two  scoundrels 
seized  Percy  from  the  rear,  the  one  clapping  his 
hairy  hand  over  the  game's  mouth  for  a  gag,  the 
other  grasping  the  young  man's  two  hands  which 
had  been  hanging  idly  clasped  at  his  back.  Not 
a  word,  a  whisper,  even  a  gasp — 

But  two  shots !  sounding  like  one,  and  striking 
Sir  Eobin  McTart's  hirelings  in  their  flanks,  lay 
ing  them  on  the  ground,  free  Sir  Percy  de  Bohun, 
stunned,  bewildered,  to  yet  catch  merely  a  glimpse 
of  a  figure  running  to  pier's  end,  jumping  into  a 
boat;  then  the  flash  of  quick  oars  fading  into  the 
silence  and  the  blackness  of  the  Thames. 
232 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

With  drawn  sword  he  gave  himself  a  rap  on  the 
chest  and  believed  he  had  been  dreaming. 

But  no,  for  at  his  feet  lay  two  prostrate  forms, 
each  bleeding  a  bit,  and  feigning,  as  such  apt 
rogues  will,  to  be  stone  dead. 

Percy  knelt,  struck  a  tinder  and  essayed  to  look 
at  their  faces ;  they  were  unknown  to  him,  and  per 
ceiving  now  their  estate,  he  formed  the  conclusion 
that  a  couple  of  footpads  had  nearly  made  an  end 
of  him,  and  walked  away. 

But  of  his  rescue?  the  manner  of  it?  the  mys 
terious  flight  of  his  preserver?  the  boat  ready  at 
the  pier's  end?  the  twin  shots  just  in  the  nick  of 
time!  What  of  all  this ? 

Bah!  Some  bargeman  with  an  honest  heart 
a-passing  by  had  seen  the  foul  attempt,  and  paused 
to  thwart  it;  some  gentleman,  maybe,  on  his  way 
to  rout  or  tryst,  thinking  to  divert  himself  with  a 
couple  of  pistols  and  so  save  a  human  life;  some 
third  desperado,  envious  of  the  chances  of  these 
two,  making  shift  to  rob  them  of  their  prey,  since 
he  was  left  out  of  their  plot. 

But  no!  None  of  these  explanations  bore  the 
least  resemblance  to  probabilities,  in  fact  showed 
233 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

not  an  atom  of  reason  in  their  suggestion,  and 
Percy  was  feign  return  to  his  uncle's  house,  thrice 
puzzled  now,  since  he  had  not  alone  Lady  Peggy's 
oblivion,  to  unravel,  but  the  miraculous  saving  of 
his  own  life  to  match  it ! 

Her  Ladyship,  once  safe  in  the  boat,  pulled  hard 
to  the  upper  pier,  paid  the  boatman,  and  back  by 
devious  ways  to  Peter's  Court  and  into  her  room ; 
shut  door  and  latched;  down  on  her  knees,  wig 
thrown  on  the  hearth,  a-thanking  God  Percy  was 
safe! 

Tears?  A  shower  of  'em,  and  trembling  legs 
and  arms,  and  heart  beating  to  burst  after  the  mad 
strain  of  the  past  eight-and-forty  hours. 

"Now,"  said  Her  Ladyship  to  herself,  "now  I 
can  go  back  to  Kennaston  and  spend  the  remainder 
of  my  life  making  cheeses  for  the  Vicar  to  munch 
o'  Sundays ;  brewing  cider  for  daddy  to  accelerate 
the  pace  of  his  gout  withal;  breeding  chicks  as 
will  win  prizes,  and  pigs  as  will  be  the  envy  of  all ! 
and — "  a  sob  occurred  here — "presently  a-reading 
in  the  London  print  of  the  grand  marriage  of  Sir 
Percy  de  Bohun  with  Lady  Diana  Weston !  And 
me  without  the  chance  of  weddin'  even  that  little 
234 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

ape,  Sir  Eobin  McTart!  But  it's  all  right  as 
'tis/'  adds  Her  Ladyship.  "Had  I  hung  on  Arms- 
leigh  Hill,  'twould  not  have  been  too  bad  for  one 
reared  as  I  have  been  in  a  God-fearing  fashion, 
and  who,  for  naught  save  jealousy,  envy  and  all 
uncharitableness,  did  go  and  so  unsex  myself! 
Lud !  Is't  I  ?  Peggy  Burgoyne,  spinster,  a-sittin' 
here  in  breeches  and  waistcoat,  a  guest  in  Mr.  Beau 
Brummeirs  house,  without  any  other  lady  to  keep 
me  in  countenance !  'Tis  said  one  gets  broke  in 
to  anything ;  but  'tis  false  !  false !  I'm  not  broke 
in  to  bein'  a  man,  and  I  never  should  be!  I  de 
test,  abhor,  and  can't  endure  the  bein'  one  !  I  that 
had  always  figured  to  myself  the  happy  day  when 
I'd  be  taken  up  to  town !" 

Lady  Peggy  is  now  pacing  the  room,  a  trick,  as 
has  been  set  down  earlier,  that  she'd  borrowed  from 
her  twin. 

"I'd  thought  to  be  of  the  ton,  a  most  genteel 
young  lady,  monstrous  fine,  a  lovely  creature;  a- 
taking  a  dish  of  tea  at  Ranelagh;  a-ridin'  to 
Court  in  dad's  old  coronet-coach  and  with  all  the 
feathers  I  could  borrow  on  top  of  my  frizzes  and 
powder;  and  two  sweet  patches  set  just  at  the 
235 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

corner  of  my  dimples !  That's  what  I'd  dreamed 
of,  with  Percy  a-staring  at  me,  lost  in  admiration, 
and — love!"  Her  Ladyship  stamps  her  foot. 
"But  what  'tis,  is  this !"  and  she  now  picks  up  the 
wig  from  the  hearth  and  flings  it  on.  the  couch  be 
side  her  coat  and  sword. 

"  'Taint  no  more  in  this  world  fine  gentlemen 
sighin'  and  dyin'  for  me!  no  wedding  favors  and 
cake ;  no  husband,  no  children ;  never !  for  there's 
no  marryin5  in  heaven,  an  I  ever  get  there !  Nay, 
Teggy  Burgoyne'  '11  be  writ  on  my  tombstone,  and 
like  as  not  the  lines  followin'  '11  be  'a  maker  of 
most  uncommon  fine  sweetmeats  and  cheeses' !" 

Another  flood  of  tears,  and  then  My  Lady  Peggy, 
obeying  that  well-balanced  head  of  hers,  brushes 
them  away  and  proceeds  to  plan  out  her  homeward 
journey,  and  to  administer  a  cunning  retouch  of 
the  cosmetics  she  had  erstwhile  bought  of  the 
players'  apothecary  in  Drury  Lane. 

'Tis  clear  now,  as  it  has  been  from  the  start,  that 
she  may  not  quit  Mr.  Brummell's  house  in  other 
than  man's  attire,  nor,  so  far  as  she  can  see,  will  it 
be  possible  for  her  to  resume  her  own  garments  at 
any  inn,  or  time,  or  place,  before  she  reaches  Ken- 
236 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

naston,  which  she  means  to  do  ere  night  falls; 
and  then  the  stableyard,  where  she  knows  Chockey 
will  be  milking,  once  gained,  a  cloak,  the  casting 
of  Sir  Robin's  wig,  and  Her  Ladyship  feels  cer 
tain  she  can  enter  her  father's  home  unnoticed 
beneath  the  shelter  of  the  faithful  Chockey's  argus 
eye. 

But,  though  neatly  laid,  Her  Ladyship's  project 
was  not  quite  yet  to  go  into  execution.  Even  as 
she  was  once  more  taking  out  the  bundle  from  its 
hiding-place  and  tying  up  in  it  the  long  tail  of  her 
cut  hair,  she  heard  a  hum  of  noises,  voices  below, 
inquiring  if  Sir  Robin  had  as  yet  reached  the 
house,  and  evidently  obtaining  an  affirmative  an 
swer,  for, — 

"Where  is  the  hero  ?     Our  hero !     Our  hero !" 

"Where  is  our  highwayman?  Our  highway 
man!" 

"Where  is  Tom  Kidde,  the  gallant?  The  gal 
lant  of  gallants  I" 

And  a  lot  of  such  merry  cries  came  echoing  up 
the  staircase  and  corridor  toward  her  room. 

Lady  Peggy  had  utterly  forgot  the  hanging. 

The  more  recent  matter  of  Percy  and  the  assas- 
237 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

sins  had  put  her  own  adventure  completely  out  of 
her  head.  For  the  first  time  she  realized  that 
she  had  not  seen  either  Mr.  Brummell  or  any  of 
his  company  since  she  had  unwillingly  heen  borne 
away  from  them  by  Homing  Nell  in  the  midst  of 
Epstowe  Forest. 

'Twas  a  halt  she  had  not  counted  on ;  but,  clap 
ping  on  wig  and  coat,  she  flung  wide  the  door,  and 
was  presently  raised  on  the  shoulders  of  Sir  "Wyatt 
and  His  Grace  of  Escombe  and  borne  triumphantly 
down  to  the  dining-room  and  placed  in  a  chair  of 
honor  at  the  supper-table,  whence,  what  with 
toasts,  songs,  stories,  acclaims,  wonders,  amaze 
ments,  applause,  Florence  wine,  cards,  etc.,  etc., 
this  gallant  company  did  not  arise  (or  some  of 
them  slip  under)  until  seven  on  Monday  morning. 

Her  Ladyship  got  up  from  the  mahogany  with 
but  one-pound-ten  in  her  pockets,  and  a  surmise 
in  her  head  as  to  how  far  this  sum  would  take  her 
on  her  homeward  way. 

But  homeward  way  there  could  be  none  just  yet, 
for  before  too  many  bumpers  had  been  filled  and 
drunk,  Beau  Bnimmell  had  made  proposition  of  a 


238 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

most  lively  affair,  which  indeed  he  had  already  set 
afoot,  for  the  celebrating  of  Sir  Robin's  restoration 
to  his  friends  by  the  timely  arrival  and  prowess  of 
Sir  Percy.  This  was  nothing  else  than  going  to 
Vauxhall  by  water  on  Tuesday  night,  and  in 
masques.  A  score  of  ladies  and  gentlemen  had 
been  bidden  to  join,  including  the  Ladies  Diana 
and  Biddy,  the  Honorable  Dolly,  the  Misses  Lovell, 
Lady  Chelmsford,  with  Lady  Brookwood  to  act  as 
duenna  for  the  unmarried  fair. 

In  vain  Lady  Peggy  protested,  swore  she  could 
not,  would  not.  These  gentlemen  would  not  take 
no  for  an  answer,  and  once  again  Her  Ladyship 
perceived,  as  she  reluctantly  acceded  to  the  mas 
querade,  how  far  more  difficult  'twas  to  be  out  of 
breeches  than  into  'em. 

Percy  was  to  be  there,  at  least  he  was  invited ;  so 
much  she  knew  from  Mr.  Brummell,  and,  as  Lady 
Diana  was  positive  to  come  up  to  town  for  such  a 
novelty  as  a  party  in  masquerade,  of  course  her 
suitor  was  certain  to  attend  her. 

Very  well!  Why  should  she,  whose  whole  life 
was  to  be  passed  in  the  compounding  of  cream- 


239 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

cheeses  and  the  visiting  of  poor  old  women,  not 
give  to  herself  one  more  cause  of  vain  regretting? 
one  more  glimpse  of  him  she  adored  ? 

At  that  hour,  when  Mr.  Brummell  and  his 
guests  were  doing  honor  to  the  supposed  Sir  Eobin, 
the  real  Baronet  was  called  upon  to  receive  two 
most  lamentable-looking  blackguards  who  followed 
the  Boots  up  to  the  gentleman's  room,  unheeding 
both  remonstrances  and  ugly  words  on  the  way 
thither. 

At  sight  of  Mr.  Bloksey  and  his  companion-in 
arms,  each  lame,  bound-up  and  wound-up  of  leg 
and  back,  with  their  bonnets  pulled  down  over 
their  brows,  Sir  Eobin  skipped  from  his  easy-chair 
with  a  gasp,  half  terrified  at  the  appearance,  wholly 
eager  to  learn  the  outcome  of  the  plot. 

"Hist !"  cries  he,  under  his  breath,  and  pointing 
to  the  door,  finger  on  lip. 

"Heh?"  responds  the  villain.  "There's  no  fear 
here.  We's  well  enough  known  down  in  our  own 
neighborhood,  but  up  'ere  we  passes  for  two  pious 
beggars  wot  lives  by  h'alms  from  the  parish 
church!" 

A  grim  smile  from  his  partner  confirms  this  re- 
240 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

mark,  and  Sir  Robin,  thus  reassured,  says  trem 
blingly  : 

"Well, 'tis  done?" 

"Tis  done/'  both  nodding  in  concert,  "and," 
adds  Mr.  Bloksey,  "we're  both  nigh  done  too! 
Wot  with  bullets  apiece  h'inside  of  us  from  the 
gentleman's  pistols,  and  wot  with  gettin'  our 
h'eyes  knocked  h'out  of  us,  and  most  bein'  caught 
by  the  Watch  when  we  was  a-lowerin'  Lord  Gower's 
heir  h'into  the  Thames,  we're  'ere,  Sir  Robin  Mc- 
Tart,  to  'umbly  remind  you  that  we  wants  more." 

The  Baronet  shakes  his  head,  hands  thrust  in 
pockets,  clutching  purse  and  pence. 

"Oh,  no,"  answers  he,  "the  job  was  paid  for  in 
advance,  my  good  men.  Not  another  groat  will 
you  get." 

"Werry  good,"  murmurs  Bloksey,  turning  on  his 
slip-shod  heel.  "We'll  just  go  down  to  the  round 
house,  and  if  it  turns  out  as  Your  Lordship  gets 
h'admission  to  the  Tower  free,  you  needn't  be  too 
much  surprised.  We  doesn't  mind  a-tellin*  'ow 
we  saw  you  a-prickin'  Sir  Percy  de  Bohun  last 
night!  and  a-weightin'  of  his  mangled  corp,  and 
a-throwin'  of  the  same  h'into  the  river  at  the  old 
241 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

Dove  Pier!— Oh,  no!  we  doesn't!"  This  at  the 
door-sill. 

"What !  what !  you  knaves !  Here,  come  back ! 
Come  back,  I  say !"  shrieks  the  terrified  little  gen 
tleman,  seizing  a  shoulder  of  each  and  forcing 
them  into  seats. 

After  which  simple  application  of  primary 
methods,  Mr.  Bloksey  and  his  friend  find  no  diffi 
culties  whatever  in  the  way  of  wresting  from  their 
patron  another  hundred  pounds,  with  which  they 
make  off,  again  and  again  rehearsing  to  him  how 
great  risks  they  had  run  in  decently  interring  the 
body  of  his  hated  rival. 

Once  rid  of  them,  Sir  Robin  rose,  stretched  him 
self,  and  yawned. 

'Twas  an  abject  soul,  one  of  those  creatures  born 
of  a  good  and  honest  stock  on  either  side,  which 
sometimes  cumber  the  earth  as  if  in  ribald  jest 
against  the  accepted  laws  of  birth  and  breeding. 

With  no  misgiving,  save  that  of  a  possible  de 
tection,  Sir  Robin,  now  that  this  even  had  been 
disposed  of  at  an  expense  of  a  hundred  guineas, 
felt  nothing  if  not  jubilant,  and  on  the  morrow 
proceeded  to  order  him  a  suit  of  satins  in  crimson, 
242 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

a  hat  of  the  latest  fashion,  ruffles,  cravats,  silk 
hose,  a  muff,  and  a  lot  of  other  fallals  at  Monsieur 
Jabot's  in  Holborn.  For  the  Baronet,  freed,  as  he 
fancied,  of  his  enemy,  and  feeling  positive  that 
Lady  Peggy  would  soon,  out  of  the  overflow  of  her 
vast  affection  for  him,  contrive  a  message  through 
her  obliging  Mr.  Incognito,  desired  to  be  equipped 
in  the  latest  mode  for  that  summons  to  his  Lady's 
presence,  which  he  believed  must  ultimately,  and 
perhaps  presently,  arrive. 

It  is  true,  he  expected  that  his  entrance  into  the 
gay  world  of  fashion,  which,  he  promised  himself 
by  way  of  introduction,  should  be  at  Yauxhall, 
might  be  a  bit  hampered  by  the  accounts  he  must 
hear  of  the  sudden  disappearance  of  Sir  Percy  de 
Bohun,  but  this  seemed  a  trifle  in  the  path  of  a 
gentleman  for  whose  sake  Lady  Peggy  Burgoyne 
had  come  up  to  town,  remained  invisible,  employed 
an  Incognito  as  Mercury,  and  of  whose  name, 
albeit  falgely,  the  prints  had  made  most  marvelous 
mention. 

Now,  Sir  Robin  had  not  seen  the  tenth  part  of 
these  last.  No,  not  any  of  'em,  in  truth,  save  the 
one  he  had  shown  to  Her  Ladyship  the  evening 
243 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

they  had  encountered  each  other  at  the  Dove  Pier. 
To  be  entirely  candid,  Sir  Robin  was  an  indifferent 
scholar;  write  he  could  not;  to  read  was  a  plague 
which  he  willingly  deputed,  when  it  was  necessary, 
to  his  former  instructor — that  patient,  worthy 
man,  the  Vicar  of  Friskingdean,  incumbent  of  the 
living  next  Robinswold. 

This  one  was  even  now,  so  Sir  Robin  had  got 
word,  up  in  London  to  consult  a  great  man  for  the 
benefit  of  his  eyes,  and  'twas  presently  agreed  be 
tween  'em  at  the  Bishop,  where  the  Vicar  stopped, 
that  they  should  proceed  together  to  Vauxhall  on 
the  Tuesday  night. 

"I  have  heard,  my  dear  Robin,"  observed  the  ex 
cellent  old  man,  "that  there  is  to  be  a  rare  sight  in 
the  gardens  that  evening,  nothing  less  than  a  most 
curious  novelty  just  come  into  vogue  in  the  world 
of  fashion." 

"Ha,  and  what's  that,  Sir?"  inquires  the  Bar 
onet. 

"A  party  of  Beau  BrummelPs  to  come  by  water 

to  the  pier,  every  soul  of  'em  in  masks, — Lords, 

Ladies,  and  all  persons  of  the  first  quality;  some 

of  the  names  I  heard  in  the  coffee-room.     There's 

244 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

to  be  Sir  Wyatt  Lovell,  the  Earl  of  Escombe,  Lady 
Diana  Weston,  Lady  Chelmsford,  Lord  Kennaston 
of  Kennaston — " 

"Hold,  Sir !"  cried  the  Baronet,  jumping  about 
the  room,  like  one  demented,  the  idea  bouncing 
into  his  pate  that  if  Kennaston  is  to  be  there,  his 
twin-sister  will  also  form  one  of  the  distinguished 
party.  "What's  to  prevent  me  buying  a  couple  of 
masks  and,  with  our  cloaks  set  out  by  our  swords, 
a-joining  in  this  gay  diversion?"  The  little  gen 
tleman's  eyes  twinkle  with  sweet  anticipation. 

"But,"  hesitates  the  Vicar,  "would  such  levity 
be  counted  seemly  for  one  of  my  years  and  profes 
sion?" 

"Tut,  tut,  Sir,"  cries  Sir  Robin,  "I'll  not  take  a 
refusal.  Hark  ye,  I  have  reasons,"  adds  he  mys 
teriously.  "There's  one  of  the  Fair  likely  to  be 
present  who  pines  to  see  me,  Sir,  and  whom  I  yearn 
to  behold  once  more.  There  hath  been  an  ob 
stacle,"  continues  the  cold-blooded  monkey,  "but 
Providence  hath  removed  it.  I  pray  of  you  accom 
pany  me,  Sir,  and  t'will  lead  mayhap  to  banns 
bein'  read  on  Sunday  se'ennight  in  the  church  at 
Friskingdean." 

245 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

The  Vicar,  being  carried  away  by  two  natural 
and  one  of  'em  a  most  laudable  emotion,  at  last 
consented.  He  was  quite  in  fatherly  sympathy 
with  his  old  pupil's  ambition  to  settle  in  life,  and 
he  had  that  curious  hankering  after  just  a  nibble 
at  the  edge  of  the  flesh-pots  of  Egypt,  which  is  not 
uncommon  to  gentlemen  of  even  his  sedate  years 
and  failing  sight. 

Sir  Robin  bought  masks  and  cloaks  of  black  and 
ordered  them  sent  to  the  Bishop,  where  he  had 
agreed  to  sup  on  Tuesday  and  go  thence  by  land  to 
Vauxhall.  Indeed  he  had  just  now  come  out  of 
the  draper's  shop  and  turned  down  toward  the 
Vicar's  inn,  when  he  caught  sight  of  Lady  Peggy 
walking  swiftly  from  him.  She  had  been  buying 
stains  for  her  skin  and  eyebrows. 

"Mr.  Incognito !"  cried  he,  scampering  hither 
and  yon,  into  the  kennel,  onto  the  path,  jostling 
fair  ladies'  chairs,  running  into  a  porter's  pack, 
thumping  a  horse  in  the  nose  with  his  ill-worn 
weapon,  and,  finally,  gaining  on  the  one  he  pur 
sues,  and  dealing  Her  Ladyship's  shoulder  no 
gentle  blow. 

"Ha,  there!"  cries  she,  turning,  hand  on  hilt. 
246 


GOES      TO      TOWtf 

Then,  perceiving  who  'tis,  she  almost  shudders  and 
draws  up  to  her  full  height. 

"Dear  Mr.  Incognito,"  pants  Sir  Robin,  "how 
fares  My  Lady  ?  Tell  me,  I  beseech  you !" 

"She  fares  but  ill,  Sir,"  answers  she,  making  to 
proceed. 

"No,  no,  not  so  fast,  I  implore;  oh,  Sir,  I  die 
for  her!" 

"Very  well,  Sir,  she  is  willing.  I  am  pressed 
for  time  and  must  away." 

"One  word.  You  say  she's  willing  I  should  die 
for  her?" 

"Oh,  Sir  Robin,  importune  me  no  further.  I 
know  not  what  she's  willing  for !" 

"Now,  now,"  soothes  the  Baronet.  "We're  well 
met,  Mr.  Incognito,  that  I'm  assured  of;  and  that 
Lady  Peggy'd  far  rather  I'd  live  than  die  for  her," 
leers  he,  "since  for  the  sake  of  communicating  with 
me  she's  at,  no  doubt,  great  expenses  in  maintain 
ing  you  ?" 

At  this  Her  Ladyship  laughs,  as  many  a  lady 
may  do  any  day,  at  the  strange  construction  a  man 
who  is  blessed  with  vanity  contrives  to  put  upon 
her  actions. 

247 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

"  'Tis  so,  I  know't !"  exclaims  he,  grinning  unc 
tuously.  "Now,  Sir,  tell  me,  goes  she — "  his  voice 
sinks  to  a  whisper  as  he  applies  his  mouth  nigh  to 
Peg's  ear — "goes  she  to  Vauxhall  in  Beau  Brum- 
melPs  party,  along  with  her  brother,  o'  Tuesday 
night?" 

A  thousand  thoughts  rush  helter-skelter  through 
Her  Ladyship's  brain,  pro  and  con  the  answering 
of  this  query. 

Presently,  sedately,  at  the  corner  of  the  street, 
says  she,  with  no  smallest  notion  of  the  import  or 
the  outcome  of  her  words,  merely  uttered  as  a  light 
and  easy  means  of  make-off : 

"Go  and  see !"  and  she  disappears  from  view. 

"By  jingo!"  rattles  the  gentleman  from  Kent 
to  himself,  as  he  jumps  into  a  hackney-coach  and 
tools  out  to  the  Puffled  Hen.  "But  she  loves  me ! 
Curse  me!  but  I  believe  she's  had  that  incognito 
rascal  at  upwards  probably  of  ten  shillings  a  day, 
just  on  purpose  to  watch  for  my  appearance,  and 
so  to  glean  tidings  of  my  welfare!  Without  a 
doubt  'tis  by  her  commands  he  said  that  'go  and 
see.'  Zounds!  I'll  do't,  with  the  Vicar  to  bear 
me  out,"  adds  this  prudent  lover,  "should  any  dis- 
248 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

agreeable  incident  occur  between  me  and  any  one 
of  these  coxcombs  with  their  town  ways.  Damn 
'em,  tho' !  with  a  secret  affair  going  on  betwixt  me 
and  Peggy,  I  can  snap  my  fingers  at  His  Gracious 
Majesty  himself,  should  we  encounter !" 

Well  pleased,  therefore,  with  himself,  Sir  Robin 
descended  at  the  Puffled  Hen  and  bestowed  upon 
the  cabman  out  of  that  abundance  of  the  heart 
which  occasionally  causes  the  pocket,  as  well  as  the 
heart,  to  speak — two-pence. 


249 


XIV 

In  this  same  Sir  Robin  believes  he  meets  his 
Fair:  and  Lady  Biddy  O'Toole  is  the 
means  of  putting  the  whole  Gar 
dens  into  a  vast  commotion. 

After  quitting  Sir  Kobin,  Her  Ladyship,  jing 
ling  the  few  shillings  that  now  remained  to  her, 
since  purchasing  unguents  and  the  mask  and  cloak 
necessary  for  the  approaching  festivity,  suddenly 
made  up  her  mind  to  escape  at  once,  to  leave  the 
bundle  of  her  clothes,  her  shorn  tresses,  and  what 
ever  else  beside  to  tell  what  tale  they  might,  and, 
here  and  now,  to  shake  the  dust  of  London  from 
her  feet  forever.  And  to  this  end  she  was  about 
to  summon  a  chair  to  start  her  as  far  on  her  jour 
ney  as  her  purse  would  permit,  when  out  comes 
250 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

Mr.  Brummell  himself  from  the  shop  of  Monsieur 
Jabot,  and  links  his  arm  in  her's  with  his  accus 
tomed  pleasant  familiarity  and  easy  condescension. 

"  Ton  honor !"  exclaims  the  Beau.  "Well  met, 
Sir!  Since  you  were  nigh  hanged,  Sir,  I've  not 
had  too  much  of  your  agreeable  company.  I'd 
have  you  know  I'm  just  from  Monsieur  Jabot's 
back  room,  where,  the  whiles  I  took  a  dish  of  tea, 
I  explained  the  riddles  of  your  most  amazin'  twist 
of  the  lace.  Faith,  Eobin,  'twas  a  lucky  hour  for 
me,  when,  having  left  a  pile  of  failures,  so  high ! 
in  the  corner  of  my  dressing-room,  I  beheld  your 
cravat  and  bade  my  man  knock  you  down !" 

Lady  Peggy  laughs.  The  cool  audacity  of  Beau 
Brummell  is  a  relief  after  the  mawkish  sighs  of 
the  little  scoundrel  she  has  just  parted  from,  and, 
hoping  that  Mr.  Brummell  will  soon  spy  either 
one  of  the  Fair  or  a  Royal  Highness,  and  so  be 
diverted  from  her  side,  she  bows  and  answers : 

"Bobin  McTart  must  ever  account  that  a  lucky 
day  for  him,  Sir !" 

"Hark  ye,  my  young  buck,"  proceeds  the  Beau. 
"Monsieur  Jabot  is  so  enchanted  with  your  man 
ner  of  the  cravat  that  to-day,  with  my  compli- 
251 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

merits,  he  introduces  it  at  Court !  And  since  I've 
been  seen  with  it,"  adds  he  pompously,  "  'tis  sure, 
by  this  day  week,  to  be  the  height  of  the  mode !" 

"Aye?"  responds  Her  Ladyship,  a-wondering 
how  she  can  best  get  away. 

"Aye!"  echoes  her  companion  in  a  monstrous 
amazement.  "Kot  me!  Sir,  but  such  a  distinc 
tion's  not  often  conferred  upon  a  young  gentle 
man  up  in  town  for  the  first  time.  What's  the 
matter  with  you,  boy  ?"  cries  he,  turning  to  observe 
Her  Ladyship's  somewhat  absent-minded  aspect. 

"Naught,  I  swear !"  cries  she,  recovering  herself. 

"'Sdeath!  Eobin,  are  ye  in  love?"  asks  the 
Beau,  taking  a  pinch  of  snuff  and  tendering  his 
box,  as,  attended  by  all  eyes,  the  two  make  their 
way  down  Piccadilly,  betwixt  ogling  ladies  in  their 
chairs  and  chariots,  gallants,  dowagers;  each,  all, 
mincing  and  la-la-ing  as  they  go. 

Her  Ladyship  inclines  her  head.  She  is  well 
pleased  to  speak  truth  when  she  can. 

"By  Gad !  Mr.  Brummell,  you've  hit  the  mark," 
says  she. 

"Sleep  not  o'  nights  ?  fickle  at  your  meat  ?  wake 
sighing?  dream  of  patches,  smiles,  and  dainty 
252 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

fingers?  mistrust  yourself?  easily  affronted?  be 
lieve  the  whole  world's  pointing  at  you  in  raillery  ? 
take  no  pleasure  in  horse,  man,  gun  or  dog?  loathe 
all  the  Fair,  save  one  ?  love  solitude  ?" 

Her  Ladyship's  feign  to  smile  in  the  midst  of 
the  snuff,  which  she  abhors,  and  has  only  taken 
because  she  had  to.  Sneezing,  she  nods  as  her 
companion  continues: 

"Hate  company?  are  cursin'  me  now  for  an 
addle-pated  fool,  and  wishing  I'd  leave  you  to  your 
self,  eh  ?  Don't  answer.  I  know  it,  Robin,  well ; 
a  thousand  times,  more  or  less,  have  I  been  where 
you  stand  to-day,  and  had  just  cause,  I  fancied,  to 
damn  the  Prince  himself,  since  that  which  I  was 
then  pleased  to  dub  his  foolish  prattle  served  to 
distract  my  ruminations  from  whichever  Lady 
'twas  at  the  moment  claimed  my  fancy.  I  cursed 
him  then,  Sir,  for  clinging  to  my  arm,  but  now  I 
bless  him,  as  you  will  me  some  future  day — for, 
Robin,  hark  ye,  there's  not  one  of  the  jades  but 
deceives  us,  no,  Sir !  and  I'm  goin'  to  hang  on  to 
you,  Sir,  for  keepin*  of  you  out  of  the  vapors. 
Zounds,  Sir !  I'll  not  leave  you  to  any  such  ill  com 
pany  as  himself  proves  to  a  young  man  in  youu 
253 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

predicament.  Come,  Sir,  come ;  we'll  up  and  into 
Will's,  and  there,  me  stickin'  faster  than  a  burr, 
we'll  home  to  Peter's  Court  and  with  a  merry  lot 
of  gentlemen  make  a  pretty  night  oft  against  to 
morrow  with  its  evening  at  Vauxhall." 

With  which  pleasant  and  most  well-intentioned 
sally,  Lady  Peggy  again  finds  herself  constrained 
to  put  off  that  redemption  of  her  true  estate  for 
which  she  so  deeply  yearns. 

Mr.  Brummell's  party  went  by  water  to  Vaux* 
hall,  and  'twas  indeed  a  heavenly  night  for  such 
an  expedition,  with  no  large  lady-moon  a-staring, 
but  the  rather  a  thin  slip  of  a  silver  damsel  hang 
ing  in  the  vault,  and  millions  of  stars  a-waiting  on 
her,  not  any  of  these  a-revealing  too  much  or 
a-telling  any  tales  if  a  gentleman's  hand  chanced 
to  come  in  contact  with  a  lady's  amid  the  folds  of 
brocade,  or  under  the  long  cloth  of  the  black, 
crimson  or  blue  cloaks  in  which  all  these  merry 
masqueraders  were  enveloped. 

Sir  Percy  de  Bohun  was  beside  Lady  Diana 
Weston;  Peggy  noted  the  same  with  jealous,  de 
spairing  eyes;  while  at  the  left  of  Lord  Brook- 
wood's  daughter  sat  her  own  twin — only  the  second 
254 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

time  she  had  seen  him  since  the  memorable  night 
in  Lark  Lane;  nor  did  she  see  him  plainly  now, 
for  all  the  company  had  set  forth  in  their  masks, 
and  only  removed  them  between  whiles  to  gain  a 
breath  of  fresh  air.  'Twas  expected  that  the 
larger  number  of  the  party  would  meet  them  at 
the  Gardens,  and  thereafter  the  sport  and  mystifi 
cation  would  begin. 

So  it  turned  out;  not  only  all  the  rest  of  Mr. 
Brummell's  friends  in  their  cloaks  and  masks, 
with  glimpse  now  and  then  of  satins,  taffetas,  laces, 
ribands,  jeweled  stomachers,  bodices  ablaze,  and  so 
forth,  but  a  vast  assemblage  of  other  folk  also 
awaited  the  arrival  of  the  Beau's  barge  at  the 
bottom  of  the  Gardens. 

Among  these,  two  lurked  in  the  shadow  of  the 
trees;  they  were  Sir  Robin  and  the  Vicar.  The 
former  noted  with  deep -joy  that  he  had,  by  a  happy 
chance,  chosen  a  crimson  color  for  his  new  suit, 
exactly  corresponding  to  that  of  one  of  these  gal 
lants  ;  that  his  cloak  of  sable  hue  was  also  quite  the 
ton,  and  that  he  could  thus,  with  ease,  mingle 
with  the  party,  and  presently,  no  doubt,  either  dis 
cover  Lady  Peggy's  identity,  or,  more  than  likely, 
255 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

she  herself  would  disclose  the  same  to  him,  and  at 
last  reward  his  faithfulness  and  patience.  No 
qualm  visited  the  little  gentleman's  conscience- 
pocket  with  regard  to  his  supposed  victim,  al 
though,  it  is  true,  he  had  given  him  a  vicious 
thought  as  he  had  stood  near  the  river's  bank 
waiting  for  Mr.  Brummell's  barge  to  come  in 
sight.  So  had  Peggy,  as  she  was  being  rowed  past 
the  old  Dove  Pier;  into  her  mind  and  into  Sir 
Percy's  had  come  the  memory  of  the  Sunday  night, 
but  he  spoke  of  it  no  more  than,  certes,  did  she. 

Sir  Eobin,  his  cup  overflowing  with  pleasurable 
anticipation  and  the  gratified  sense  that  the  one 
who  had  sworn  to  take  his  life  lay,  fish-food,  at 
the  bottom  of  the  Thames,  flitted  hither  and  yon, 
dragging  the  bewildered  Vicar  of  Friskingdean  in 
his  wake. 

Wherever  the  company  of  Mr.  Brummell  wan 
dered,  there  followed,  hanging  on  to  the  fringe,  as 
'twere,  these  two,  whom  presently  one-half  the 
guests  accepted  as  a  matter  of  course  to  be  of 
themselves. 

First,  always  followed  by  an  admiring  and  gap 
ing  crowd,  'twas  up  and  down  the  formal  Walks 
256 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

somewhat  sedately,  for  the  masquerade,  as  has  been 
said  before,  was  at  that  period  but  just  coming 
into  vogue,  and  fine  ladies  and  gentlemen  were, 
at  the  outset  of  an  evening,  not  as  easy  in  their 
disguises  as  they  became  after  a  promenade  in  the 
unaccustomed  duds ;  then,  they  formed  a  circle  of 
mysterious  appearance  around  the  orchestra ;  then, 
'twas  into  the  Room  to  stare  at  the  pictures 
through  the  peepholes  of  their  masks ;  then  a  rush 
to  gaze  at  the  Cascade,  which  the  whole  of  them,, 
save  Lady  Peggy,  Sir  Robin  and  the  Vicar,  had 
seen  a  hundred  times  before;  later,  'twas  up  and 
down  the  Walks  again ;  and  here  Sir  Robin  at  last 
made  bold,  having  long  since  joined  himself  and 
the  somewhat  reluctant  Vicar  to  a  group  of  the 
Beau's  company,  to  address  a  few  words,  as  it 
chanced,  to  the  lively  Lady  Biddy  O'Toole ! 

It  had  seemed  to  him,  after  a  careful  survey  of 
all,  and  having  been  able,  by  dint  of  his  ears,  to 
learn  which  was  Kennaston,  whose  was  the  only 
personality  so  far  in  his  possession,  that  Lady 
Biddy's  arch  turn  of  the  head  was  the  most  like  to 
belong  to  the  object  of  his  passion.  So  up  he 
springs,  mincing,  leaving  the  Vicar  to  huddle  in 
257 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

the  shade,  and,  pulling  Her  Ladyship's  mask- 
riband  with  a  twitching  finger  and  thumb,  as  he 
had  seen  others  do  just  now,  he  said,  very  low,  in 
her  ear: 

"I'm  sure  I  know  who  Your  Ladyship  is !" 

"Out  with  it,"  says  she,  very  low  too. 

"It's  she  whose  image  is  writ  on  my  heart,"  an 
swers  he. 

"Sure,"  answers  she,  "that's  a  thing  that  can 
never  be  known  until  you're  dead,  and  maybe  not 
as  soon,  since  the  surgeons  don't  cut  up  every 
body!  Lud,  Sir,  give  me  your  name,  and  we'll 
talk  of  your  heart  anon." 

"I  am  Sir  Kobin  McTart  of  Eobinswold,  Kent/' 
exclaims  he,  feeling  positive  that  this  saucy  minx 
is  none  other  than  his  adored,  for  be  it  remem 
bered  Lady  Biddy  spoke  under  her  breath  and  with 
a  disguised  tone  to  her  voice. 

"'Od's  blood!"  now  whispers  Her  Ladyship, 
with  an  accent  of  mock  terror,  into  Sir  Eobin's 
ear.  "You !  the  highwayman !  the  cut-throat !  the 
robber!  what,  I've  heard,  sticks  gentlemen  in  the 
back,  or  has  your  men  do  it  for  you,  and  profits  by 
that  same !"  laughing  fit  to  kill  herself. 
258 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

But  the  little  man  does  not  laugh;  the  cold 
sweat  stands  out  all  over  his  sallow  countenance, 
and  he's  so  terrified,  recalling  the  threats  of  Mr. 
Bloksey,  that  he  stands  stock-still,  and  really  can 
not  move  a  leg. 

They  are  nigh  the  Dark  Walks  as  Sir  Eobin 
comes  to  his  halt,  and  Lady  Biddy,  not  pausing 
even  to  note  his  silence,  goes  merrily  on  with  her 
most  apt  discourse. 

"Oh,"  proceeds  she,  "but  you  are  the  hero  of  the 
day,  Sir  Kobin,  and  it's  myself  that's  proud  to  be 
in  your  company,  and  faith !  I'd  like  to  have  died 
running  to  see  you  hang  on  Saturday  last !" 

"Hang!"  gasps  he,  getting  back  the  use  of  his 
voice,  but  not  of  his  shaking  legs.  "Saturday 
last!" 

"Don't  be  that  bashful,  Sir  Eobin,  making  as  if 
you'd  never  heard  of  such  before!"  And  Lady 
Biddy  gives  the  Baronet's  cloak  a  playful  tweak. 
"Lud,  Sir !  you  and  Sir  Percy  de  Bohun's  the  two 
most  talked  about,  of  all  the  bucks  in  town !" 

"Sir  Percy  de  Bohun!"  repeats  he,  his  knees 
knocking  together. 

"Sure'n  didn't  he  save  you  from  the  gibbet? 
259 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

Oh,  go-along  with  you,  Sir  Eobin,  you  can't  palaver 
Lady—" 

"Lady  who?"  he  contrives  to  ejaculate,  struck 
nearly  dumb  at  this  mention  of  his  rival,  while 
Lady  Biddy  now  bridles  and  is  mute. 

"You  are  Lady  Peggy  Burgoyne,  are  you  not  ?" 
he  goes  on  more  softly,  bending  toward  his  com 
panion,  and  concluding  at  last  that  the  Lady's 
words  must  have  been  the  mere  hap-hazards  of  a 
sparkling  disposition. 

Now  Lady  Biddy,  in  common  with  other  ladies 
of  fashion  and  moving  in  certain  high  circles  of 
society,  had  heard  a  deal  of  the  mysterious  and  all 
unseen  Lady  Peggy.  She  well  knew  the  supposi 
tion  that  was  rife  as  to  Lady  Peggy's  being  se 
cretly  the  wife  of  Sir  Eobin  McTart.  She  knew 
from  her  bosom  friend,  Lady  Diana  Weston,  who 
had  the  same  most  direct  from  her  suitor,  Lord 
Kennaston,  Lady  Peggy's  own  twin-brother,  that 
his  sister  was  from  home,  unknown  her  where 
abouts  to  father  or  mother,  kith  or  kin,  maid  or 
man,  save  that  she  was  "up  in  London";  that  Sir 
Percy  de  Bohun  was  mad  for  love  and  loss  of  her ; 


260 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

\ 

that  her  brother,  had  he  not  been  in  like  case  by 
means  of  Lady  Diana,  would  long  since  have  made 
public  search,  as  he  was  indeed  making  such  pri 
vately,  for  the  discovery  of  the  eloping  Fair.  She 
likewise  was  aware  that  Sir  Eobin  frequented  the 
gay  world,  was  not  adverse  to  ogling  a  lady,  as  she 
herself  could  testify;  stopped  at  Mr.  Brummell's 
house;  and,  albeit  'twas  said  had  fought  a  duel 
with  Sir  Percy  because  of  Lady  Peggy,  still  did  not 
absent  himself  from  any  rout,  ridotto,  or  ball,  on 
her  always  absent  account. 

So,  equipped  with  such  a  fund  of  knowledge 
and  any  amount  of  surmise,  Her  Ladyship  replied 
coyly  beneath  her  mask: 

"Why  do  you  think  so,  Sir  Eobin,  and  pray  if  I 
were  Lady  Peggy,  what,  now,  would  you  be  afther 
saying  to  me  ?" 

"Zounds!  'tis  she!"  exclaims  the  Baronet,  car 
ried  away  by  the  fact  that  Lady  Biddy's  hand  be 
neath  her  cloak  has  more  than  half-way  met  his 
own  moist  and  trembling  fingers. 

"Loveliest  of  women !  Oh,  'twas  indeed  by  your 
express  directions,  was't  not,  that  Mr.  Incognito 


261 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

on  Monday,  watching  for  me  in  High  Holborn 
nigh  the  shop  of  Mounseer  Jabot,  bid  me  come  here 
to-night  to  meet  you  ?" 

Lady  Biddy,  although  much  averse  to  the  clam 
my  touch  of  her  cavalier,  gives  his  fingers  an  assur 
ing  pressure. 

"Why,  oh,  why!"  pursues  Sir  Robin,  now  as 
much  elated  by  this  tacit  confession  of  her  passion 
for  him,  as  he  was  but  lately  overwhelmed  by  the 
mention  of  such  strange  words  as  "hanging,  high 
wayman,  Sir  Percy  de  Bohun,"  etc.,  etc.,  "why 
have  you  seen  fit  to  keep  me  in  such  a  length  of 
suspense?  Why  have  I  not  been  allowed,  before 
this,  to  behold  you,  and  renew  the  days  of  our 
sojourn  in  Kent  ?  Speak,  my  angel,  speak !" 

"La,  Sir!"  murmurs  Lady  Biddy,  minx-like, 
ever  anxious  to  get  at  the  heart  of  this  now  much 
deepened  enigma,  "la,  Sir,  do  you  not  know  but 
too  well  the  whys  and  wherefores  of  my  secrecy?" 
Her  Ladyship  from  Cork  actually  squeezes  the 
little  Baronet's  crooked  little  hand. 

"That  do  I  not !  Mr.  Incognito  never  would  tell 
me  aught,  but  thus  and  so ;  and  bade  me,  from  your 
adorable  lips,  keep  myself  in  seclusion  and  safety, 
262 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

— nor  ever/'  continues  he,  his  tone  sinking  to  a 
mere  breath,  "endanger  my  precious  self,"  now 
stooping  to  imprint  a  chaste  kiss  on  Her  Lady 
ship's  hand,  "in  the  meeting  even  once  of  Sir 
Percy  de  Bohun,  for  he  had  sworn  to  kill  me  on 
beholding  me.  Dearest  life,"  proceeds  Sir  Eobin, 
withdrawing  Lady  Biddy  a  bit  into  the  shade  of 
the  great  trees,  "I  have  obeyed  your  commands. 
I  have  never  set  eyes  upon  the  scoundrel,  but  have 
kept  myself  close  housed  at  my  inn  in  Pimlico, 
awaiting  your  dear  pleasure." 

"Have  ye?"  murmurs  Lady  Biddy,  now  more 
bewildered  than  she  ever  was  before  in  her  life, 
and  seeing  no  clear  way,  either  to  read  the  puzzle 
or,  truth  to  tell,  to  elude  the  gentleman.  Yet  the 
wits  of  a  lady,  especially  if  she  happen  to  have 
been  born  in  Ireland,  may  usually  be  trusted  to 
extricate  her  from  almost  any  dilemma ;  therefore, 
when  Sir  Robin  has  done  swearing  of  his  impatient 
probation  passed  at  the  Puffled  Hen,  says  she, 
tweaking  her  hoop  and  making  a  courtesy : 

"Lud !  Robin,"  (the  hussy !)  "but  you  are  a  kill 
ing  creature!  Nay,  nay!"  drawing  out  a  few 
steps,  he  after  her,  from  the  shade  of  the  trees 
263 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

and  more  in  the  flare  of  the  twinkling  globe  lamps, 
"Nay,  tarry  here  but  a  moment ;  there  are  the  same 
reasons  for  your  not  accompanying  me  now  that 
have  prevailed  upon  me  to  keep  our  matters  secret 
hitherto.  I  pray  you,  stir  not  from  the  neighbor 
hood  of  this  wooden  lion — see? — until  I  return, 
which  I  will  do  presently." 

"Faith !"  cries  the  Baronet,  "HI  not  budge,  my 
divine  Peggy !  until  you  are  once  more  at  my 
side!"  and  with  a  horrid  leer  through  his  peep 
holes,  he  essays  to  take  Lady  Biddy's  hand  once 
more,  but  she's  off,  balking  him. 

Quick  as  thought,  she  scampered  across  to  the 
edge  of  the  orchestra,  where  she  discovered  a  group 
of  masks  and  among  'em  one,  whom,  by  the  rose 
pinned  to  her  bloom-colored  bodice,  she  knew  to  be 
Lady  Diana,  and  she  made  certain  that  two  of  the 
three  bloods  near  her,  canes  dangling  at  their 
button-holes,  must  be  Sir  Percy  and  Lord  Ken- 
naston. 

"Hist!"  exclaims  Lady  Biddy,  panting  partly 

from  speed,  partly  from  the  fright  a  lady  alone 

might  experience  in  running  the  gauntlet  of  so 

many  macaronis  and  fops,  not  to  speak  of  thieves 

264 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

and  pickpockets,  as  perforce  was  the  case  in  pro 
gressing  about  Vauxhall. 

''What  is't  Biddy,  for  I  know  you  by  your  silver 
heels,"  answers  Lady  Di.  "Mischief,  I'll  dare  be 
sworn,  or  it's  not  you !  Speak  your  mind ;  there's 
none  here  but  what  can  keep  a  secret,  and  the  whole 
of  us  have  been  a-watching  you  with  some  one,  fie ! 
at  the  entrance  to  the  Dark  Alleys." 

"Is  Sir  Percy  here?  Is  this  he?"  whispers 
Biddy. 

Sir  Percy  bows,  for  he  is  there ;  while  the  other 
two  gentlemen,  inferring  from  her  tone  that  she 
seeks  a  private  ear,  instantly  withdraw  to  one  of 
the  boxes  for  a  glass  of  Burgundy  to  refresh  their 
spirits. 

"I've  news  for  you,  of  one  you're  a-dyin'  for,  of 
Lady  Peggy  Burgoyne !"  exclaims  she  triumphant- 

iy- 

"What!  What!"  comes  simultaneously  from 
behind  each  of  the  masks  she  addresses. 

"Aye;  I'm  after  learning  from,  whom,  think 
you?" 

"Proceed,  for  the  love  of  God,  Madam!"  says 
Percy,  very  low. 

265 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

"From  him  that's  supposed  to  be  her  husband, 
Sir  Eobin  McTart,  that  mistook  me  for  her/'  Bid 
dy  titters,  "that  she's  here  to-night  by  an  appoint 
ment  with  him.,  made  by  a  trusted  servant  of  hers, 
called  'Mr.  Incognito' ;  sent  to  meet  Sir  Eobin  be 
fore  the  shop  of  Monsieur  Jabot  in  Holborn ;  and 
he's  not  seen  Her  Ladyship, — I  mean  Sir  Eobin's 
not  seen  her  since  they  were  sojourning  in  Kent 
together!  and  there's  a  mystery  for  you!  And  I 
made  excuses  and  left  him  a-standin'  by  the  lion, 
for  I  could  no  longer  contain  the  news,  but  must 
run  back  to  him  now  to  extract  the  rest  of  it. 
Pray  heaven,  Lady  Peggy  herself  comes  not  by, 
and  let's  out  that  I  was  not  she  at  all,  at  all !" 

"Good  God !"  murmurs  Percy  under  his  breath, 
as  Biddy  rattles  on.  "Can  this  thing  be  ?  and  what 
does  it  all  mean?" 

Eestraining  Lady  Biddy,  both  he  and  Lady 
Diana  endeavor  to  quiet  her  abounding  spirits, 
and  to  gain  from  her  the  detailed  account  of  her 
encounter  with  Sir  Eobin.  Percy,  in  the  midst 
of  her  voluble  tongue  and  her  giggling,  striving  to 
form  some  plan  of  action  which  shall  this  night 
bring  matters  to  the  touch  between  himself  and 
266 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

the  Baronet  and  leave  one  or  t'other  of  'em  stiff 
and  stark. 

Meantime,  Sir  Kobin,  with  greedy  eyes  fixed  on 
Lady  Biddy,  so  long  as  he  can  see  her,  and  until 
she  and  her  companions  withdraw  into  a  box, 
stands  as  if  at  one  with  the  wooden  lion ;  presently, 
however,  his  gaze  is  diverted  hither  and  yon,  not 
only  by  the  playful  and  engaging  remarks  of  vari 
ous  young  ladies  who  challenge  his  mask  in  the 
most  direct  and  obliging  fashion,  but  by  a  certain 
Figure  which  he  beholds  moving  about  aimlessly, 
it  would  seem,  and  alone,  beneath  the  dark  shadows 
of  the  trees  toward  the  river. 

There  is  something  in  this  Figure's  motions,  al 
though  cloaked  and  masked, — therefore,  the  Bar 
onet  notes,  one  of  Mr.  Brummell's  party, — which 
strikes  him  as  familiar,  and  when,  presently,  the 
unknown  lifts  mask  and  reveals  the  countenance 
behind  it,  Sir  Eobin  sidles  up,  one  eye  on  the 
wooden  lion  of  his  tryst,  however,  and  plucking 
Lady  Peggy  by  the  arm,  says : 

"Ho !  Mr.  Incognito !" 

Peggy  turns,  and  betwixt  disgust,  dismay,  hor 
ror,  and  amusement,  remains  silent. 
267 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

"'Tis  I,  Sir,  Robin  McTart,"  lifting  his  own 
mask  a  trifle  to  assure  his  companion  of  his  iden 
tity. 

"Soh !"  returns  she,  "I  do  perceive." 

"Oh,  Mr.  Incognito,  what  do  I  not  owe  to  your 
being  in  My  Lady's  employ !  She  is  indeed  here." 

Her  Ladyship,  taking  this  for  a  question,  answers 
thus,  with  emphasis:  "Yes,  she's  here — indeed." 

"I  have  seen  her,"  sighs  the  little  Baronet,  lean 
ing  his  head,  just  exactly  the  height  of  Her  Lady 
ship's  own,  down  on  Peggy's  shoulder  in  an  excess 
of  sensibility. 

"Have  you  ?"  exclaims  she,  not  daring  to  stir  in 
the  embarrassment  of  believing  it  possible  that  the 
scoundrel  has  discovered  her  identity. 

"Oh,  yes,"  sighs  Sir  Robin,  "I  have  received  a 
pressure,  nay  two  of  'em,  from  her  hand.  I've 
kissed  her  fingers ;  I  await  her  return  to  meet  me 
at  the  wooden  lion  yonder." 

"Do  you?"  says  Lady  Peggy,  mystified  beyond 
everything.  "Did  she  look  as  you  expected  her 
to?" 

"Ah !"  gasps  Sir  Robin,  "she  has  not  yet  lifted 
her  mask  for  me  to  behold  her  countenance,  but 
268 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

when  she  returns,  I  shall  beseech  her  for  one 
glimpse !" 

"Ah !"  returns  Peggy,  now  fully  persuaded  that 
some  one  has  been  making  a  jest  of  her  companion, 
but  none  the  less  disquieted  on  her  own  score. 

"Hark  ye,  Sir  Robin,"  says  she,  "you  have  ever 
found  my  counsels  wise.  Be  advised  by  me  now; 
leave  Vauxhall  at  once.  Lady  Peggy  Burgoyne 
is  not  safe,  so  long  as  you  tarry  here." 

The  little  Baronet,  doughtily,  although  trem 
bling,  puts  his  hand  to  his  hilt. 

"Nay,  Sir !"  continues  Peg,  "your  weapon  would 
not  avail  for  her  preservation.  She  leaves  town 
this  very  night  for  Kennaston.  Do  you  the  same, 
nor  risk  detection  longer  here."  Her  Ladyship 
uses  the  word  advisedly,  and  has  the  satisfaction 
of  seeing  Sir  Robin  shiver  with  terror,  then  steady 
again  as  he  reflects  that  Her  Ladyship's  fears  can 
but  be  in  connection  with  her  own  escapade ;  since, 
'tis  plain  from  all  he  can  spy  and  eavesdrop,  not  a 
soul  as  yet  has  missed  Sir  Percy  de  Bohun  from  his 
accustomed  haunts. 

"But  she  swore  me  she'd  be  back  in  a  few  mo 
ments,  Mr.  Incognito,  and  'sdeath!  Sir!"  per- 
269 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

ceiving  Lady  Biddy  emerging  from  the  box  and 
advancing  toward  the  lion  alone,  "there  she  is !" 

Off  and  away  Sir  Robin  McTart  to  join  his 
Fair,  while  Lady  Peggy,  screened  by  the  increas 
ing  shadows,  for  the  dripping  lamps  are  one  by 
one,  by  this,  dying  down  in  their  globes,  beholds 
one — she  devines  not  which — of  Beau  Brummell's 
lady  guests,  courtesying  and  greeting  the  Baronet 
with  her  finger-tips. 

Now  My  Lady's  heart's  a-thumping  monstrous 
hard;  she  beholds,  as  well  as  Sir  Eobin  and  his 
supposed  Peggy,  two  others — alas !  she  knows  too 
well  who  they  are,  a-peeping  out  from  the  corner 
of  the  box-entrance  whence  Lady  Biddy  came  just 
now,  and  watching  her  encounter  with  Sir  Robin. 

These  are  Lady  Diana  and  Sir  Percy. 

Together  ?  Aye  and  a-goin'  to  be  "together"  for 
all  their  lives,  she  sadly  thinks,  both  of  them, 
quite  forgetting,  save  perchance  for  a  moment's  be- 
guilement,  her  very  existence.  But  it  behooves  her, 
if  not  for  her  own  sake,  of  which  she  has  come  to 
the  pass  of  recking  but  little,  then  for  her  father's 
and  mother's,  now  to  bid  farewell  forever  to  dis- 


270 


GOES      TO      TOWN" 

guises,  falsehoods,  cheatings,  man's  estate,  and 
even  the  melancholy  chance  of  seeing  the  counte 
nance  of  Sir  Percy.  She  will  off  presently,  and 
reach  home  as  hest  she  may. 

A  few  minutes,  more  or  less,  can  make  no  odds, 
and  'tis  hut  too  true  that  Her  Ladyship  stood 
there  in  ambush  of  the  branches  in  the  vain  hope 
that  Percy  might  lift  his  mask,  if  but  for  an  in 
stant,  and  thus  allow  her  parting  gaze  to  rest  upon 
his  features. 

It  is  quite  true  that  mortals,  although  in  never 
such  haste  to  reach  a  desired  crisis,  still  ofttimes 
halt  at  the  threshhold  of  its  attainment;  so  Her 
Ladyship,  with  now  nothing  to  hinder  her  escape, 
still  stood  leaning  against  an  oak,  listless,  but  for 
the  eager  eyes  fixed  on  the  pair  in  the  box  entrance. 
These  presently  crossed  into  the  throng  and,  join 
ing  others  of  the  maskers,  were  lost  to  her  view; 
but  the  Baronet  and  Lady  Biddy  had  not  been  idle 
of  their  tongues  this  while. 

Much  simpering,  angling  for  news,  tittering, 
and  a  neat  show  of  wit  in  the  manner  of  plying  a 
gentleman  with  questions  on  a  matter  about  which 


271 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

he  was  quite  ignorant,  on  the  lady's  side;  ardor, 
impatience,  as  much  daring  as  his  little  spirit  per 
mitted,  on  the  gentleman's.  Finally  said  he: 

"Mr.  Incognito  says  you  start  for  Kennaston 
this  very  night,  my  dearest  life,  is't  so  ?" 

"Tell  me  who  is  Mr.  Incognito  ?"  says  she,  "and 
I'll  answer  you  straight." 

"He's  your  paid  servant,  sworn  slave,  and  the 
hearer  of  all  tender  messages  between  us. — Now,  go 
you  to  Kennaston  to-night  ?" 

"As  sure  as  I'm  Lady  Peggy  Burgoyne,"  returns 
Biddy.  "I  start  for  home  ere  cock-crow !" 

"I'll  follow  you  poste-haste,  but,"  cries  Sir 
Kobin,  "loveliest  of  created  beings,  I  beseech,  I 
implore !  one  glimpse  of  your  angelic  countenance 
before  we  part — to  meet  only  when  I  can  claim 
you  as  my  own !" 

"No !  No !"  exclaims  Biddy,  restraining  the 
Baronet's  hand  which  is  laid  upon  the  lutestring 
of  her  mask. 

"But  divine  creature,  I  insist!"  with  one  arm 
seizing  the  buxom  Lady  Biddy  about  the  waist, 
while  with  the  other  he  essays  to  untie  the  riband 
which  hides  her  charms  from  view. 
272 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

Then  Lady  Biddy  O'Toole,  whose  lungs  were  of 
the  best,  let  such  a  bawl  as  rang  far  up  and  down 
the  Thames,  causing  a  score  of  red-stockinged  boat 
men  to  leave  their  wherries  and  dash  up  the  Gar 
dens;  causing  every  tongue  in  Vauxhall  to  cease 
clacking,  every  glass  to  jingle  to  its  table,  every 
echo  to  resound ;  every  other  lady  there  to  shriek ; 
the  musicians  to  stop;  the  waiters  to  drop  their 
trays;  each  gentleman  to  draw  sword;  and  a  vast 
number  of  persons  of  both  sexes  to  shout : 

"Watch!  Watch!  Murder!  Thieves!  High 
waymen  I"  and  whatever  else  beside. 

While  a  concourse  of  people  of  every  condition 
at  once  closed  in  around  Sir  Robin  and  Lady 
Biddy,  at  the  outside  rim  of  which,  shivering  be 
twixt  terror  and  that  lively  curiosity  which  over 
rides  even  a  desire  for  personal  safety,  gaped  the 
now  unmasked  Vicar  of  Friskingdean,  unable  to 
find  his  natural  protector  and  sometime  pupil  in 
all  this  hurly-burly. 


273 


XV 

Wherein  Sir  Percy  and  Sir  Robin  come  face 

to  face,  to  the  unfeigned  amazement  of 

each:  and  where  My  Lady  takes 

to  her  heels  and  a  wherry. 

When  Lady  Diana  and  Percy  quitted  the  box, 
he,  after  conducting  her  to  the  care  of  Lady  Brook- 
wood,  strode  off  into  the  Dark  Alleys,  taking  with 
him,  not  Kennaston,  for  the  hopeless  youth,  flouted 
still  by  Diana,  had  gone  a-mooning  by  the  river's 
bank,  but  a  company  of  valiant  and  merry  gentle 
men  all  raised  a  bit  by  the  partaking  of  the  famous 
Vauxhall  punch;  and  to  them  he  confided  suffi 
cient  of  his  reasons  and  intentions,  as  made  plain 
their  course  to  them  as  his  friends,  to  do  aught 
and  all  in  their  several  powers  toward  the  promot- 
274 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

ing  of  a  quarrel  betwixt  him  and  Sir  Robin  Me- 
Tart ;  whom,  he  would  presently  point  out  to  them, 
as  they  should  stroll,  seeming  careless,  the  length 
of  the  walk. 

Thus,  arm  in  arm,  Sir  Percy,  Sir  Wyatt  Lovell, 
His  Grace  of  Escombe,  and  Mr.  Jack  Chalmers, 
across  the  path,  swaggering  with  sticks  and  tassels 
hanging,  hats  at  a  cock,  perfumed  with  Venus  oil, 
and  most  jocund  of  demeanor;  with  Beau  Brum- 
mell  behind  'em  spying,  waving  his  little  muff, 
and  chatting  with  Lord  Wootton  and  one  or  two 
more  gay  sparks,  all  disporting  themselves  care 
lessly,  but  hilts  eased  for  the  drawing. 

Just  as  they  were  nearing  the  wooden  lion  of  Sir 
Robin's  tryst,  Lady  Biddy's  shriek  assailed  their 
ears,  and  Sir  Percy,  thanking  Providence  for  so 
opportune  an  occurrence,  which,  not  to  say  that  it 
was  in  any  way  premeditated,  yet  continued  to 
ring  out  louder  and  louder,  even  after  Sir  Robin 
had  ceased  to  pull  at  her  mask-string  and  stood, 
held  fast  in  Her  Ladyship's  stout  grasp,  the  very 
center  of  a  blaze  of  light  from  footmen's  flam 
beaux, — they  and  the  masses  pushing  every  way, 
screaming  and  cursing. 

275 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

Into  the  thick  of  this  melee  dashed  Sir  Percy  de 
Bohun,  with  his  friends  on  either  side  of  him. 

But  a  moment  sufficed  for  him  to  wrest  the  Lady 
from  her  assailant  and  to  deliver  her  over  to  the 
care  of  Diana  and  the  Duchess,  who  carried  her 
swooning  (whether  with  laughter  or  emotion 
'twould  be  difficult  to  set  down),  to  the  Room. 

In  another  second,  taking  his  silver-fringed 
gloves  from  his  pocket  he  threw  them  into  the 
masked  face  of  Sir  Robin  McTart. 

The  little  Baronet,  who  had  both  temper  and 
vanity,  which  brace  now  got  the  upperhand  of 
his  cowardice,  and,  believing  that  Lady  Peggy's 
eyes  were  upon  him,  that  Sir  Percy  was  at  the 
bottom  of  the  Thames,  and  with  full  foreknowl 
edge  that  he  could  run  away  before  the  meeting 
could  be  arranged,  caught  the  gloves  as  they  struck 
and  flung  them  back  into  their  owner's  covered 
countenance. 

"Take  that !  'sdeath !"  squeaked  Sir  Robin,  now- 
much  the  more  valiant  as  he  beheld  the  Vicar 
screwing  his  way  toward  him  through  the  excited 
crowds. 

"Unmask,  and  show  yourself  for  who  you  are !" 
276 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

cried  Percy,  every  one  of  his  companions  echoing : 
"Unmask!     Unmask!     Unmask,  or  we'll  run 
ve!" 

p 

frWillingly,"  responded  the  trembling  gentleman 
from  Kent,  tugging  at  the  slip-knot  in  his  mask- 
string. 

"I  am  Sir  Robin  McTart !  Who,  the  devil,  are 
you?" 

"I  am  Sir  Percy  de  Bohun !"  replied  his  op 
ponent,  as  both  masks  came  off  at  the  same  instant, 
and  the  two  confronted  one  another,  staring  with 
four  eyes  that  fairly  popped  in  their  sockets. 

'Twould  be  hard  to  say  which  of  these  two  was 
the  more  astounded,  although  Sir  Percy's  amaze 
ment  had  quite  a  different  flavor  from  the  Bar 
onet's  abject  terror. 

"You !  Sir  Percy  de  Bohun !"  he  quavered,  turn 
ing  ashy  pale.  "I'll  not  believe  it.  'Tis  a  lie !" 

"You !  Sir  Robin  McTart !"  replied  Percy,  hot 
ly.  "Gentlemen,"  turning  to  his  friends,  "I  pray 
you  bear  me  out  in  this,  not  to  the  exclusion  of 
my  challenge  of  this  impostor,  which  holds  good 
until  one  or  t'other  of  us  sheds  blood,  but  for  the 
preservation  of  the  honor  of  a  valiant  gentleman, 
277 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

who  is  not  far  off  of  us  now.  That  this  weazen 
wretch  may  meet  his  dues,  for  not  only  does  he 
masquerade  his  face,  but  seeks  to  usurp  the  char 
acter  and  name  of  one  whom  we  all  know  to  be 
both  handsome,  brave  and  courageous." 

Percy's  blood  runs  high  as  he  speaks  these  gen 
erous  words,  while  every  soul  about  him  stands 
breathless,  staring,  struck  dumb  with  the  singular 
ity  of  the  episode. 

"But  I  am  Sir  Eobin  McTart,"  cries  the  Baronet, 
brandishing  his  weapon  with  a  will,  since  there  is 
none  to  oppose  him,  and  the  Vicar,  now,  although 
well-nigh  choked,  not  above  ten  yards  distant  from 
him. 

"Tut,  tut,  Sir,  whoever  you  are,"  interposed 
Lord  Escombe.  "Your  game's  up,  and  you'd  bet 
ter  give  your  lies  a  rest." 

"Hold!"  cries  Sir  Percy  to  Eobin,  "whoever 
you  are,  I  challenge  you  to  fight  me  ten  minutes 
hence,  yonder  in  the  open,  towards  the  river,  and 
those  ten  minutes  my  friends  and  I'll  spend  in 
calling  the  actual  Sir  Eobin  McTart  into  your 
presence,  and  confronting  your  impudence  with 
his  reality.  Lend  me  your  lungs,  My  Lords  and 
278 


GOES      TO      TOWN" 

Gentlemen;  Sir  Robin's  in  call  somewhere  in  the 
Gardens  as  we  all  know." 

And  with  one  accord  the  shout  went  up,  ringing 
up  and  down  the  river  and  far  across  to  the  high 
way,  where  it  caused  the  horse-patrol  to  think  that 
every  highwayman  in  the  kingdom  had  broken 
loose  upon  Vauxhall,  and  presently  brought  them 
rearing,  plunging,  swearing,  firing,  thumping  cut 
lasses  right  and  left,  into  the  midst  of  the  surging 
thousands,  by  this  all  shouting : 

"Sir  Robin  McTart !  Sir  Robin  McTart !  Sir 
Robin !  Sir  Robin  !  Sir  Robin  McTart  I"  at  the 
top  of  their  voices. 

But  for  all  their  bawling,  no  one  answered,  no 
one  came,  and  but  one  of  the  vast  throng  went. 

This  was  Lady  Peggy,  at  a  loss  to  know  the 
meaning  of  the  shouts,  not  having  been  near 
enough  to  the  scene  of  the  encounter  to  learn  its 
purport,  and  only  now  realizing  that  'twas  herself 
was  sought  and  meant  by  the  concerted  cry  that 
rent  the  air.  Scenting  a  new  if  unknown  danger, 
she  followed  her  woman's  instinct,  and,  in  the 
waiting  pause  that  succeeded  the  tumultuous  call, 
Peggy  fled  to  the  landing,  pressed  a  handful  of 
279 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

shillings,  almost  her  last,  into  the  palm  of  the 
only  boatman  there,  jumped  into  the  wherry  and 
bade  him  get  her  as  swiftly  as  he  could  to  Queen- 
hithe  Stairs;  for  determined  was  she,  now  more 
than  ever,  to  leave  no  traces  in  her  wake,  and  to 
return,  at  all  risks,  to  Mr.  Brummell's  house  for 
her  bundle  of  woman's  clothes. 

For  a  long  way  down  the  Thames  the  renewed 
cry  of  the  Vauxhall  crush  rang  in  her  distracted 
ears: 

"Sir  Eobin  McTart !  Sir  Robin  McTart !  Sir 
Robin !  Sir  Robin !  Where  are  you  ?  Come  forth ! 
Show  yourself !" 

But  none  other  came  forth,  and  the  Baronet, 
taking  such  courage  as  he  might  through  his  aston 
ishment  at  Sir  Percy's  being  alive, — and  not  for 
getting,  even  at  this  point,  to  reckon  how  much 
the  lying  assassins  had  mulcted  him  of,  now, 
in  the  second  breathless  halt  of  the  calling  his  own 
name,  waved  his  weapon  and  answered  it,  saying 
again : 

"I  am  Sir  Robin  McTart !" 

"Prove  it,"  shouted  Chalmers,  with  a  derisive 
shrug. 

280 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

"Faith!  and  so  he  can  by  me!"  exclaimed  the 
panting  Vicar,  as,  borne  rather  by  the  surging  of 
the  people  than  by  his  slender  legs,  the  tenant  of 
the  cloth  was  pitched  somewhat  unceremoniously 
head-first  into  his  pupil's  middle.  Sputtering,  but 
yet  winning  the  attention  which  truth  and  the 
clergy  usually  and  righteously  obtain,  the  Vicar 
raised  his  right  hand,  and,  laying  his  left  on  the 
Baronet's  shoulder,  he  spoke: 

"This  is  Sir  Eobin  McTart  of  Robinswold,  Kent. 
I  have  known  him  from  his  birth;  his  father  be 
fore  him;  he  has  been  my  pupil.  Who  dares  use 
his  name  than  himself  is  an  impostor  and  a  thief !" 

"What !"  and  now  comes  forward  Mr.  Brummell 
with  open  hand.  "And  my  old  friend,"  says  he, 
"'sdeath,  Mr.  What's-your-name,  you  were  a 
curate  when  we  met  last,  twenty  years  ago,  but  I 
remember  you,  Sir,  at  Robinswold.  So  this," 
surveying  the  Baronet,  "is  my  old  friend's  son  and 
heir  ?  Of  a  truth  he  favors  his  sire  more  than  the 
pretty  young  rapscallion  that's  been  a-fooling  us 
all  for  now  these  four  weeks  past ;  for  gentlemen," 
adds  the  Beau,  turning  to  Sir  Percy,  "  'tis  as  well 
we  confess  ourselves  to  have  been  duped.  Gad, 
281 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

Sir,"  this  sotto  voce  to  Percy  alone,  "I  always 
wondered  where  Sir  Hector  found  that  handsome 
lad,  for  he  was  as  ugly  a  gentleman  as  ever  was 
wedded  to  wife." 

After  the  storm  there  came  that  calm  which  is 
the  inevitable  successor,  save  that,  in  this  case, 
while  the  noise  subsided,  the  wonder  grew.  Every 
one  of  Mr.  Brummell's  company  and  all  of  the 
rest  of  the  world  beside,  was  rehearsing  his  and  her 
own  surmise  as  to  the  identity  of  the  young  gentle 
man  who  had,  for  above  a  month,  been  the  town 
toast,  and  who  had  now  disappeared  as  suddenly 
as  he  came.  Some  believed  him  to  be  Tom  Kidde 
himself;  some,  a  Lord  out  of  France;  some,  a 
Prince  of  the  blood;  some,  the  Devil;  some,  an 
astrologer;  there  was  no  lack  of  inventions  as  to 
Her  Ladyship's  identity  by  the  time  the  ten  min 
utes  of  Sir  Percy's  setting  had  come  to  an  end. 

He  cast  an  eye  about  the  place  looking  for  Sir 
Eobin,  and  his  veins  were  fairly  on  fire  to  know 
the  color  of  his  rival's  blood  and  wring  from  his,  he 
hoped,  dying  lips,  a  confession  of  where  Lady 
Peggy  was.  Presently,  not  spying  his  opponent, 
be  begged  Escombe  and  Chalmers  to  have  the 
282 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

goodness  to  seek  him  out ;  settle  the  spot ;  ask  him 
to  choose  his  seconds;  call  a  surgeon  (of  whom 
there  were  always  a  score  in  attendance  at  Vaux- 
hall,  ready  for  just  such  affairs),  while  he  himself 
swung  down  toward  the  river  to  look  for  Kennas- 
ton  and  give  him  one  last  word  for  Peggy,  should 
Sir  Eobin  run  him  through. 

Peg's  twin  lay  on  the  turf  sleeping.  Such  are 
the  effects  of  being  at  once  a  poet  and  a  lover,  not 
yet  twenty,  and  quite  fagged  with  wide-awake 
nights  and  days  and  a  fair  lady's  cruel  caprices. 
Sir  Percy  looked  at  him,  smiled,  and  whispered 
as  lie  knelt : 

"Dear  lad,  thou  that  art  My  Lady's  twin,  when 
next  thou  seest  her,  sure  I  know  she'll  lay  her  dear 
lips  on  thy  brow,  and  there  she'll  find,  this."  Percy 
kissed  the  boy  as  he  spoke.  "  'Tis  doubtless  more 
than  she'd  care  to  discover,  but,  if  death  comes, 
'twill  ease  the  blow  and  charm  the  pain  while  I 
remember  this  message  that  I  send  her  now." 

He  turned  away  and  left  Peg's  brother  lying 
there  to  waken  at  his  leisure. 

When  he  reached  the  Walk  again,  another  clamor 
greeted  him  identical  with  its  predecessor. 
283 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

"Sir  Robin  McTart !  Sir  Robin  McTart !  Sir 
Robin !  Sir  Robin !  Come  forth  of  your  seclusion. 
The  time  is  up.  Sir  Robin,  I  say-y-y-y !" 

This  Sir  Robin  McTart  had  vanished  as  myste 
riously  as  the  other  one,  and  though  the  entire 
company  made  the  welkin  ring  with  the  same  cry 
over  again : 

"Sir  Robin  McTart !  Sir  Robin !  Sir  Robin ! 
Sir  Robin  McTart!"  no  Sir  Robin  appeared  or 
could  be  found,  and  they  were  fain  be  content, 
reinforced  by  the  ladies  now  well  out  of  their 
swoons  and  terrors,  to  finish  up  the  night  with 
punch  and  loo  in  the  boxes,  all  brains  much  of  a 
muddle  with  the  strange  adventures  and  miracu 
lous  disappearances  incident  upon  Beau  Brum- 
mell's  never-to-be-forgotten  masquerade  party  at 
Yauxhall. 


284 


XVI 

Which  doth  set  forth  how  My  Lady  Peg,  Sir 

Percy  and  Sir  Robin  all  put  up  at  the 

"Queen  and  Artichoke:"  and  what  a 

fine  hurly-burly  thereupon  ensues. 

The  moment  that  the  excitement  of  the  Vicar's 
identification  had  subsided,  the  Baronet,  leading 
the  worthy  old  man  to  the  gates  and  there  quitting 
him  under  pretext  of  fetching  a  hackney  coach, 
skipped  without,  and,  hiring  one  with  a  couple  of 
the  horse-patrol  at  a  squeezing  price,  jumped  in 
and  made  off  for  his  inn  at  Pimlico,  leaving  his 
whilom  preceptor  to  shift  for  himself. 

Sir  Robin  had  no  mind  at  all  for  duels  with  any 
one,  least  of  all  with  the  resurrected  Sir  Percy  de 
Bohun,  whom  his  guilty  conscience  suspected  to  b« 
285 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

fully  cognizant  of  the  author  of  his  attempted 
assassination.  Terrified  with  all  this  and,  if  pos 
sible,  more  so  by  the  accounts  he  had  listened  to, 
right  and  left,  of  his  valorous  and  most  mysterious 
name-sake,  the  little  gentleman  at  once  made  up 
his  mind  as  to  the  course  wisest  for  him  to  pursue, 
and  forthwith  pursued  it. 

Back  to  Pimlico,  and  into  bed,  shivering  betwixt 
the  linen  and  feathers ;  up  for  a  toilet  of  the  best 
and  neatest;  curling  his  wig  thriftily  himself  by 
the  fire;  a  good  breakfast;  a  coach  at  noon  with 
Kennaston  Castle  for  goal;  and  himself  and  his 
ardent  and  blissful  hopes  and  beliefs  for  freight 
and  luggage. 

For,  not  twelve  hours  since,  had  not  My  Lady 
Peggy's  own  emissary,  the  delightful  "Mr.  In 
cognito,"  told  him  that  his  mistress  was  leaving 
for  home  last  night?  Nay,  had  not  Peggy  her 
self,  with  her  own  lips,  said  that  she  started  for 
Kennaston  "ere  cock-crow"?  and  whatever  could 
such  words  mean  but  that  he,  the  object  of  her 
tenderest  solicitude,  should  follow  her  at  once  ? 

Lady  Biddy's  bawl,  'tis  true,  echoed  in  the 
Baronet's  recollection,  but  'twas,  to  his  way  of 
286 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

thinking  merely  an  index  of  the  liveliness  of  her 
disposition  and  the  enchanting  coyness  of  her 
moods. 

He  adjusted  his  wig  with  a  beaming  smile, 
snapped  his  crooked  little  fingers  at  the  mere  mem 
ory  of  Sir  Percy  de  Bohun,  the  Vicar,  his  spurious 
name-sake,  and  all  the  rest  of  it,  as  he  blithely 
set  off  on  his  amorous  quest,  at  high  noon,  from 
the  Puffled  Hen  in  Pimlico. 

That  same  morning  toward  dawn,  Percy  had 
ridden  home  alone,  leaving  Kennaston,  cheered 
by  a  smile  and  a  pressure  of  Lady  Diana's  hand, 
to  return  to  his  chambers  in  Grub  street,  whither 
the  young  poet  had  removed  some  few  days  since 
from  Lark  Lane,  at  the  instance  of  having  had  a 
piece  of  good  fortune,  in  the  way  of  a  commenda 
tion  from  no  less  a  personage  than  the  great  Doc 
tor  Johnson  himself. 

The  reflections  of  Peggy's  adorer  were  various 
and  most  tormenting;  his  brain,  as  he  tossed  in 
his  bed,  was  a  labyrinth  wherein  he  wandered,  vain 
ly  endeavoring  to  solve  such  riddles  as — 

"Where  was  Lady  Peggy?  Was  she  indeed  the 
bride  of  either  of  the  Sir  Eobins?  Who  was  the 
287 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

comely  young  gentlemanly  rogue  who  had  for 
weeks  bewitched  the  fair  and  charmed  the  brave  ? 
Where  had  he  disappeared  ?  To  whom,  in  reality, 
was  he  indebted  for  the  saving  of  his  own  life 
at  the  Dove  Pier;  and  whose  were  the  St.  Giles's 
hirelings  who  had  near  made  an  end  of  him 
there?" 

Bewildered  and  at  wits'  end,  he  finally,  as  the  sun 
was  at  meridian,  sprang  from  his  uneasy  couch, 
rang  and  rapped  thrice  for  Grigson,  made  a  sorry 
pretense  at  conversing  on  politics  with  his  uncle, 
whom  he  presently  encountered  in  the  hall;  in 
wardly  cursed  the  old  gentleman;  and  at  last,  by 
three  o'clock,  got  his  will,  which  was,  astride  of 
the  long  roan,  Grigson  on  the  black,  to  cross  to  the 
Surrey  side  of  the  river,  and  ride  as  fast  as  ever 
he  could  to  Kennaston  Castle. 

"By  heavens !"  cried  he  to  himself,  pounding 
Battersea  Bridge.  "It  is  time  her  father  knew,  and 
Her  Lady  mother  too,  that  she  is  neither  in  Kent 
or  anywhere  else  in  their  reckoning ;  and  if  it  puts 
'em  both  into  their  shrouds,  they'll  hear  the  truth, 
and  set  about  solving  the  riddle  before  sunrise  to- 


288 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

morrow.  I'm  sailing  on  Thursday  for  the  Colonies, 
but  I  go  not  until  I  am  assured  of  her  safety, — and 
her  happiness." 

Thus  it  happened  that  not  above  three  hours 
after  Sir  Robin  had  started  from  Pimlico  with  his 
destination  Kennaston,  Sir  Percy  quitted  Char 
lotte  Street  with  the  same  beacon  in  view;  and 
each,  the  one  in  his  coach,  t'other  in  his  saddle, 
brain  full  and  heart  bursting  with  but  one  thought, 
and  that  Lady  Peggy  Burgoyne. 

Her  Ladyship  meantime,  on  landing  from  the 
wherry,  fairly  scampered  her  way  to  Mr.  Brum- 
mell's  for  fear  of  desperadoes  and  Mohocks.  At 
one  point  wild  cries  of — 

"Watch!"  greeted  her  ears  from  the  open  win 
dow  of  a  gaming-house ;  at  another  a  bullet  whizzed 
above  her  head,  the  outcome  of  a  duel  being  fought 
in  a  narrow  street  she  traversed.  In  and  out  she 
threaded  her  path,  until  presently  the  pink  flush 
of  the  dawn  pierced  the  fog  into  a  silvery  mist 
and  she  had  gained  the  Beau's  threshhold.  Pass 
ing  the  sleepy  servants,  Peggy  ran  up  to  her  room 
and  once  again  drew  the  bundle  from  its  hiding 


289 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

place,  tucked  the  long  tail  of  her  dark  hair  well 
inside,  cast  a  glance  of  pitiable  amusement  about 
the  chamber,  and  says  she,  going: 

"God  knows  if  I  ever  get  leave  to  put  on  a  lady's 
garments  again;  but  I'll  never  come  back  here, 
that's  certain,  since  now  am  I  no  one,  not  even  Sir 
Robin  McTart!" 

So,  challenged  merely  by  the  still  drowsy  foot 
man  who  asks :  "Beg  pardon,  and  with  submission, 
Sir  Eobin,  but  will  you  be  home  for  dinner,  Sir,  or 
not  until  supper  ?" 

"For  neither,  to-day,"  answers  Her  Ladyship, 
running  out  into  Peter's  Court,  and  then  coming 
to  a  dead  halt. 

She  drew  a  long  deep  breath,  as  deep  as  the  fog 
would  let  her,  much  as  a  dog  does  before  he  starts 
on  the  scent;  she  jingled  the  little  money  left  in 
her  purse,  gave  her  hat  the  cock  as  she  beheld  a 
passer-by,  and  struck  out  for  London  Bridge, 
which,  at  this  early  hour  of  the  day,  she  found 
easy  enough  to  cross  afoot,  barring  the  filth  and 
mud. 

'Twas  the  first  time  she  had  been  on  it  since  the 
memorable  afternoon  when  she  and  Chockey  had 
290 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

first  come  up  to  town  in  the  coach  from  the  Ken- 
naston  Arms.  Now  stalking  along  with  a  will, 
and  a  swing  to  her  bundle,  My  Lady  had  chance 
to  note  the  tall  gaunt  houses  lining  the  bridge  at 
€ach  side  where  the  pin-makers  dwelt  and  worked ; 
the  gigantic  water-wheel  under  the  arches  which 
supplied  the  town  with  water;  the  increasing  tide 
of  wagons,  carts,  pedestrians,  porters,  whoever  else 
(save  the  chairs  or  coaches  of  fine  ladies  and  gen 
tlemen  of  which,  at  this  time  of  day,  there  were 
none).  Arrived  at  Surrey  side,  Her  Ladyship 
paused  to  consider  and,  wrapping  herself  well  in 
her  camlet  cloak,  the  which  she  had  used  at  the 
masquerade  so  lately,  thereby  hiding  her  blue  vel 
vet  breeches,  laced  waistcoat,  point  ruffles,  Mech 
lin  lace  cravat,  rich  coat,  and  jeweled  hilt,  soon 
obtained  fare  in  the  one-seated  cart  of  a  country 
clown  who  was  off  for  Tooting. 

Her  Ladyship  decided  very  quickly  that  'twas 
but  a  necessary  precaution  for  her  to  avoid  high 
ways,  stage-coaches,  and  inns  of  reputation,  since 
probably  by  this  a  full  description  of  the  supposed 
Sir  Robin  would  be  word  of  mouth  from  West 
minster  to  Mile  End,  and  a  dozen  miles  out  of 
291 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

town  with  the  Lord  knows  but  a  price  set  upon, 
his  head ! 

Once  arrived  at  Tooting,  'twas  her  intention  to 
double  on  her  tracks,  return  with  some  bumpkin's 
load  of  vegetables  to  Garret  Lane  and  thence  to 
foot  it  across  country  or  by  penny's-worth  rides 
with  village  folk,  reaching  the  neighborhood  of 
Kennaston,  perhaps  late  that  night;  or,  if  she 
should  be  compelled  to  sleep  under  some  friendly 
farmer's  roof,  at  least  by  the  next  high  noon. 

But  Her  Ladyship  reckoned,  if  not  without  her 
hosts,  most  decidedly  without  taking  count  of  the 
weary  beast  that  dragged  her,  nor  yet  of  any  pos 
sible  fellow-guests  she  might  encounter  on  arriving 
at  the  Queen  and  Artichoke  at  Tooting. 

It  was  nightfall,  when,  limp  and  unnerved,  pos 
sibly  for  the  very  first  time  in  her  life  consciouf 
of  such  physical  conditions,  the  clown  pulled  her 
up  before  the  inn  in  order  to  allow  her  to  alight. 
Bundle  under  arm :  feet  and  legs,  up  to  calves,  well 
bespattered  with  mud  from  the  reek  of  her  passage 
across  London  Bridge  afoot;  wig  somewhat  tan 
gled  for  all  that  she  had  slipped  her  wig  comb  out 
of  pocket  and  essayed  to  smooth  it  a  bit;  sleeves 
292 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

upturned,  cloak  dragging  over  her  arm  to  heels, — 
a  sorry,  disheveled-appearing  young  personage 
jumped  from  among  a  pile  of  oat-bags,  leathern 
aprons,  chairs,  unsold  produce,  wilted  flowers,  and 
under  the  askant  eyes  of  'ostler,  hoots,  barmaid, 
mistress,  and  host,  marched  boldly  into  the  parlor 
of  the  Queen  and  Artichoke. 

"Was  there  a  chamber  to  be  had  ?"  for  Her  Lady 
ship  plainly  saw  she  must  lie  at  Tooting  and  not 
proceed  on  her  homeward  journey  until  the  mor 
row. 

There  was  a  chamber ;  an  admission  hesitatingly 
made,  even  at  this  modest  hostelry,  to  a  young 
gentleman  arriving  without  either  servant,  luggage, 
box,  horse,  coach,  or  dog,  and  by  means  of  a  vile 
rickety  little  cart.  Yet,  such  was  Her  Ladyship's 
swagger,  notwithstanding  a  full  splash  of  mud  on 
the  tip-end  of  her  handsome  little  chin,  she  was 
presently  conducted  to  a  decent  chamber,  up-stairs, 
at  the  rear,  it  is  true,  yet  overlooking  the  green, 
where  a  game  of  bowls  was  in  progress,  and  with  a 
fine  trellis,  thick  with  vines,  beneath  its  small- 
paned  window. 

"Was  there  an  ordinary?" 
293 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

Oh,  the  shame  and  humiliation  of  it!  that  the 
daughter  of  the  Earl  of  Exham  should  be  put  to 
such  an  ebb,  instead  of  ordering  the  best  the  house 
afforded  sent  at  once  to  her  room. 

Aye,  there  was  an  ordinary  of  two  dishes  and  a 
pastry  at  ten-pence,  and  it  would  be  ready  in  the 
quarter  hour. 

"Ten-pence." 

Her  Ladyship  had  just  eleven  pence  ha'penny 
left  in  her  purse. 

Yet,  thought  she,  refreshed  by  a  good  meal  and 
the  leaving  of  her  weapon  as  a  hostage  for  her 
lodging,  she  would  better  eat  than  faint  to-night, 
whatever  might  betide  on  the  morrow. 

While  she  washed  her  hands,  after  hiding  the 
bundle  under  the  feather  bed,  Her  Ladyship  heard 
the  ring  of  horses'  hoofs  on  the  stone  pave  of  the 
inn  yard ;  and  her  quick  ear  even  detected  the  fact 
that  one  of  the  steeds  went  lame. 

She  peered  out  of  window  and  beheld  Sir  Percy 
astride  of  his  own  long  roan,  with  Grigson  just 
dismounting  from  the  smoking  black. 

"This  is  cursed  luck !"  mutters  the  master,  as 


294 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

he  himself,  out  of  saddle,  stoops  to  examine  the 
roan's  much  swollen  off  hind-leg. 

"It  is,  Sir  Percy,"  returns  the  man,  "but,  by 
your  leave,  Sir,  it  may  be  we  can  hire  a  mount  here, 
although  it  don't  look  too  promisin'." 

"Unlikely,"  says  Sir  Percy.  "The  best  we  can 
do  is  to  lie  in  this  hole  for  the  night,  and  by  a  hot 
poultice  and  a  bandage,  the  roan  may  be  in  condi 
tion  by  to-morrow  forenoon." 

"Very  well,  Sir ;  it  be  a  damn  poor  place  of  en 
tertainment,  Sir  Percy,  with  an  ordinary  at  ten- 
pence,  Sir."  Grigson's  tone  of  derision  is  marked 
by  the  guest  who  draws  close  about  her  face  the 
cotton  curtain  of  the  upper  rear  chamber  window. 

"Will  you  be  pleased  to  be  served  in  your  room, 
Sir  Percy,  at  once,  and  of  whatever  can  be  had? 
What  wine,  Sir?" 

"Tut,  tut,  Grigson.  I'll  into  the  ordinary;  off 
with  you  to  the  stables  with  the  roan,  rub  her  down 
and  medicine  her,  then  to  your  own  supper  in  the 
kitchen." 

"Host,"  observes  Mr.  Grigson,  loftily,  as  that 
worthy  obsequiously  appears  in  the  yard  with  an 
attendant  train,  as  is  customary  in  welcoming  per- 
295 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

sons  of  quality,  "Sir  Percy  de  Bohun  has  the  con 
descension  to  say  he  will  sup  in  the  ordinary, 
and—" 

Whatever  Mr.  Grigson's  further  remark  may 
have  intended  to  result  in,  was,  at  this  crisis,  lost 
to  posterity  by  such  a  clattering  from  up  on  the 
high  road  'round  the  corner  of  the  green  lane, 
where  nestled  the  Queen  and  Artichoke,  that  every 
eye  was  turned  to  behold  such  a  cloud  of  dust  as 
joyed  the  soul  of  Boniface,  whose  tuned  intelli 
gence  foresaw  a  coach  and  four  horses;  in  the 
light  of  which  Sir  Percy  de  Bohun's  reeking  lame 
roan  and  ill-kempt  aspect  faded  into  almost  as 
much  insignificance  as  had,  long  since,  the  traveler 
who  had  arrived  in  the  clown's  cart. 

Boots  alone  was  left  to  guide  Sir  Percy  to  his 
apartment,  while  the  rest  made  a  concerted  dash 
for  the  yard  entrance,  just  in  time  to  make  their 
most  profound  bows  and  courtesies  before  the 
spick  little  gentleman  who  thrust  his  inquiring 
little  head  out  of  window,  keeping  his  door  closed, 
as  he  beckoned  the  landlord  to  him  with  eager 
heavy  eyes  well  under  cover  of  his  pulled-down 
hat. 

296 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

"What  guests  have  you  to-night  ?"  asked  the  lit 
tle  gentleman. 

At  the  very  moment  he  was  propounding  his 
query,  Sir  Percy,  now  sunk  to  ignominy  even  in  the 
eyes  of  Boots  by  announcing  he  would  sup  at 
ten-pence,  was  being  ushered  into  an  upper  cham 
ber  adjoining  the  very  one  in  which  sat,  dejected, 
robbed  of  even  the  prospect  of  food  by  his  presence, 
Lady  Peggy  Burgoyne. 

"Very  few,  My  Lord,"  answered  the  host  glibly, 
"the  very  best  chamber  on  the  first  floor  with  the 
sitting-room  has  been  kept  for  Your  Lordship," 
applying  hand  to  latch  of  coach-door,  the  which, 
however,  is  still  firmly  held  by  its  occupant. 

"Their  names  ?"  asks  the  little  gentleman,  while 
at  the  fleck  of  one  of  the  postilion's  lashes  his 
wheelers  begin  to  prance  and  advance  so  far  into 
the  yard  as  that  their  racket  brings  Peggy  a  second 
time  to  her  narrow  pane,  a-squinting  up  her  eyes 
to  see  who  this  may  be.  For,  in  the  midst  of  her 
distress,  as  befalls  often  enough  to  all  of  us,  she 
takes  unconscious  note  of  minor  happenings,  the 
which,  those  who  study  such  matters  affirm  to  be 
proof  of  the  two-sided  condition  of  men's  minds. 
297 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

"Your  guests'  names  ?"  reiterates  the  small  gen 
tleman,  as,  followed  by  the  cortege  of  dame,  maid, 
man,  dog,  cat,  and  tame  magpie,  the  coach  comes 
to  a  halt  within  excellent  range  of  Her  Ladyship's 
coign  of  vantage  and  earshot,  "I  must  know  them 
before  I  alight." 

"Well,  My  Lord,  there's  Mr.  Bigge,  the  Curate 
from  Eisley  Commons,  as  stops  over  here  on  his 
way  to  Finchley  every  week ;  Mr.  Blunt,  the  travel 
ing  tailor;  His  Grace  the  Duke  of  Courtleigh's 
own  man,  off  on  his  holiday;  Mr.  Townes  and  his 
new  married  wife  a-goin'  to  settle  in  the  lodge  at 
the  Manor-house;  a  young  spark  drabbled  with 
mud  and  havin'  no  boxes  and  no  servants,  what  ar 
rived  by  means  of  a  market  cart  just  anon,  and  Sir 
Percy  de  Bohun,  a  fine  gentleman  what's  just  rid 
den  in  the  yard  before  Your  Lordship's  coach, 
but"— 

"Who?"  The  little  gentleman  turned  green  in 
his  pallor,  and  shot  back  in  his  cushions  with  a 
gasp. 

"Not  much  of  any  account,  My  Lord,  I'm  think 
ing,  since  Jenny  here  tells  me  he  sups  at  the  ordi 
nary  ;  of  course  Your  Lordship'll  be  served  in  your 
298 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

own  sitting-room  and  dame  and  myself  to  humbly 
wait  upon  you." 

"Hold  your  tongue !"  says  the  little  man,  gath 
ering  his  scattered  wits  and  pausing  to  think,  while 
his  steeds  paw  noisily  on  the  cobble  pavement. 

Peggy,  at  the  pane,  almost  laughs  as  she  regards 
the  shrinking  weazened  visage. 

"Sir  Robert  McTart !"  she  says  to  herself,  shak 
ing  her  head  at  the  little  vixen.  "'Tis  indeed  a 
merry  fate  that  puts  me  and  Percy  and  you  all 
under  one  roof  this  night.  That  is,  if  his  presence 
don't  fright  you  into  a  gallop !" 

Sir  Percy  himself,  also  for  a  second  standing 
moodily  at  his  casement,  could  and  did  behold 
thence  Sir  Robin's  restive  and  hungry  leaders,  and 
had  a  passing  wonder  as  to  what  the  devil  brought 
any  gentleman  to  stop  at  such  an  inn,  save  as  him 
self,  by  the  misfortune  of  a  nail  in  his  animal's 
foot. 

Sir  Robin,  however,  with  that  discretion  and 
prudence,  not  to  say  cowardice,  which  distinguished 
him,  had  purposely  chosen  the  Queen  and  Arti 
choke,  for,  upon  second  thought,  he  had  determined 
to  sleep  in  comfort. 

299 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

Sir  Kobin  loved  his  feathers  and  quilts  of  a 
night  far  better  than  the  jolt  of  ruts  and  ditches, 
and  dreaded  highwaymen  more  than  even  the  pangs 
of  delayed  love-making. 

By  his  choice  he  had  hoped  to  escape  the  least 
chance  of  an  encounter  with  Sir  Percy,  whom  he 
believed  to  be  in  hot  pursuit  of  him,  and  at  this 
juncture  his  wise  little  pate  quickly  resolved  that 
it  were  better  for  him  to  alight,  gain  his  chamber, 
and  harbor  there  in  safety  until  such  time  as  that 
Sir  Percy  should  have  unsuspectingly  proceeded 
on  his  quest. 

"If  you  can  ensure  me  a  perfect  privacy;  to  go 
unseen  to  my  rooms,  a  fair  service,  and  dry  linen, 
with  quiet  as  to  cocks  and  neighbors,  I  will  remain 
here  for  the  present,"  says  Sir  Robin,  almost  taking 
in  Lady  Peggy  by  the  squint  of  his  uncontrollable 
left  eye. 

In  a  trice,  Sir  Robin  is  attended  to  his  bower, 
and  ere  long  the  best  in  the  larder  is  laid  before 
him.  Sir  Percy  partakes  of  the  homely  fare  of 
the  ordinary;  and  Her  Ladyship  sits,  unheeding 
the  tardy  summons  of  the  dame,  supperless,  hun 
gry,  fagged,  in  her  tiny  room  where  the  warmth 
300 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

from  the  kitchen  chimney  reaches  her,  and  where 
the  goodly  smells  from  Sir  Robin's  fowls,  sausages, 
eggs,  and  fruit-pie  assail  her  senses. 

Mr.  Grigson,  doctoring  the  roan,  endeavored 
with  much  creditable  tact  to  get  wind  of  the  name 
or  title  of  the  master  of  the  coach,  but  Sir  Robin's 
men  had  had  their  lesson,  and  not  a  hint  was  to 
be  got  out  of  either  of  them  by  Mr.  Grigson,  or 
by  the  curious  host  of  the  Queen  and  Artichoke 
himself. 

By  eleven  every  candle  was  out  in  the  house.  All 
the  guests,  save  two,  slept  the  sleep  of  the  presum 
ably  just 


301 


XVII 

Wherein  Her  Ladyship  slips  leash  of  all  man 
kind,  runs  for  her  life,  and  finds  goal  in 
the  arms  of  Sir  Robin  McTart. 

» 

These  were  Peggy  and  the  little  Baronet. 
Her  Ladyship,  mind  made  up  to  flee  in  the  dark 
ness,  leaving  six-pence  on  the  table  to  pay  for  her 
lodgings,  even  now  stood,  latch  in  hand,  bundle 
once  more  under  arm,  still  a  man,  not  having  dared 
to  change  her  garments. 

Sir  Robin  lay  ensconced  betwixt  the  quilts;  the 
realizing  sense  that  his  mortal  enemy,  one  who 
sought  his  life,  who  coveted  His  Lady — from  whom 
he  was  running  away,  to  be  veracious, — lay  not 
many  yards  off  him,  seeming  to  banish  that  restful 
302 


repose  that  had  seldom  hitherto  forsaken  this 
worthy  and  exemplary  little  person. 

A  mouse  squeaked,  and  Sir  Robin  shivered;  a 
beetle  pattered  across  the  hearth,  his  hair  stood 
on  end. 

Surely  a  footstep  sounded  in  the  hallway;  the 
boards  creaked;  something  metallic  struck  against 
the  panel  of  his  door,  and  he  sprang  from  his 
couch  and  chattered  to  his  sword. 

Lady  Peggy's  blade  had  struck  the  woodwork  as 
she  made  her  way  stealthily  down  in  the  darkness ; 
while  Sir  Robin  shook,  she  gained  the  lower  end 
of  the  hall  but,  not  being  acquainted  with  its  ways 
and  turnings,  above  all,  having  forgot  the  two 
broad  steps  that  cut  the  straight  road  to  the  en 
trance  in  two,  Her  Ladyship,  with  much  clanking 
of  her  weapon  on  the  brick  flooring,  fell  sprawling ; 
her  bundle  shooting  off  into  the  unseen,  she  up  on 
hands  and  knees,  hither,  yon,  seeking  it ;  Sir  Robin 
beating  on  his  wainscot  such  a  tattoo  as  was  fit  to 
wake  the  dead,  shrieking,  from  the  safe  shelter  of 
the  muffling  pillows  where  he  huddled : 

"Murder !  Thieves !  Ho  there !  Landlord ! 
Tom !  James !  Ho  there,  I  say !  Help !  Help !" 
303 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

Sir  Percy,  out  of  his  four-post  up-stairs  in  a 
flash,  tinder  struck,  door  flung  open ;  in  night-rail 
and  cap,  with  rapier  drawn,  hanger  uplifted,  and — 

"  'Sdeath !  What  the  devil  is  the  matter !"  cries 
he  at  top  of  lung.  "Speak  or  I'll  fire !"  and  down 
the  stair  he  plunges  to  Sir  Robin's  very  sill. 

This  one,  having  successfully  summoned  those 
more  doughty  than  himself  to  cope  with  the  sup 
posed  danger,  now  recognizing  Sir  Percy's  voice, 
shivers  and  sweats  as  he  cowers  and  pulls  the 
counterpane  over  his  head,  grasping  his  purse  in 
his  sharp  little  fingers;  wisely  never  undoing  of 
his  door. 

"Speak  or  I'll  fire,"  repeats  Sir  Percy,  whose 
candle  has  heen  blown  out  by  the  draught.  He 
takes  a  few  steps  down  the  hallway  where  he  hears 
the  curious  scratching  noise  Her  Ladyship  is  mak 
ing  as  she  distractedly  feels  around  for  the  bundle. 

At  last  she  grasps  it  and  creeps  up  unwittingly 
to  Sir  Percy's  very  side;  de  facto  her  arm  grazes 
his  as  she  now  raises  herself  to  a  standing  posture, 
exactly  as  her  lover,  no  answer  being  vouchsafed 
him,  pulls  his  trigger  and  the  ball  goes  a-whizzing 


304 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

through  Sir  Robin's  door  panel  and  finds  lodge 
ment  in  the  chimney  bricks. 

Peggy,  her  customary  composure  being  much 
the  worse  for  hunger  and  the  general  excitement, 
jumps  when  the  shot  pops,  and  thus  inadvertently 
now  palpably  touches  Percy's  elbow.  He  turns 
upon  her  and  seizes  her  wrists  in  a  grip  of  steel ; 
she,  as  tightly  hugging  the  bundle  under  her  arm 
pit,  utters  no  sound,  but  wriggles  and  twists  to 
such  a  purpose  that  she  is  about  to  get  free  when 
her  opponent  renews  his  endeavors  with  an  oath. 

"Speak!"  says  he,  "or  I'll  brain  you!"  making 
to  hold  Peg's  two  hands  prisoner  in  one  of  his,  the 
while  he  may  seize  his  rapier  and  put  a  finish  to 
the  matter. 

She  does  not  speak,  but  to  the  scene  jump  now 
the  heavy  cumbrous  country-folk,  rattled  out  of 
their  deep  slumber  by  Sir  Percy's  ball  and  no  less 
by  the  piercing  and  prolonged  shrieks  of  Sir  Robin, 
each  Colin  Clout  and  Dowsabel  of  'em,  armed  with 
whatever  they  could  catch;  yet,  luckily  for  Her 
Ladyship,  no  one  of  them  with  sense  enough  to 
fetch  a  candle. 

"A  light !  a  light !  you  damnable  idiots !"  cried 
305 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

Sir  Percy,  while  Her  Ladyship  makes  a  final 
twist  to  free  herself,  fruitless  as  before.  She  feels 
her  ebbing  strength  at  its  last  pinch  and  feels, 
too,  the  bundle  loosening  in  her  hold. 

Then,  as  landlord  stumbles  to  his  tinder-box, 
amid  an  uproar  from  all  the  travelers,  especially 
the  new  made  bride  and  her  spouse,  Peggy  finds 
herself  let  go,  nay,  almost  thrust  aside  as  her 
captor  ejaculates  testily : 

"Zounds!  girl,  why  did  you  not  proclaim  your 
sex,  and  not  leave  me  to  find  it  out  by  a  long  wisp 
of  woman's  hair  between  my  fingers  ?  Lights ! 
Lights !  I  say !  and  we'll  get  the  fellow  yet !  He 
must  be  in  the  house,  for  no  one's  left  it." 

Sir  Percy  has  been  for  the  moment  meshed  in 
his  Lady's  long  tresses,  which,  in  the  skirmish, 
have  broke  leash  of  the  bundle  and  dangle  out 
yard's  length. 

For  an  instant  she  stands  on  the  landing  at  bay. 
To  unbolt  the  big  door  and  make  an  open  dash 
for  freedom  would  mean  certain  death ;  to  turn  up 
therefrom  and  regain  her  chamber  was  her  sole 
chance,  and  this  must  be  done  before  a  light  could 

be  struck. 

306 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

She  wheeled  around  and  rushed  up  the  hall,  up 
the  stairs  among  the  clustering  folk,  nudging 
she  knew  not  whom,  skipped  along  the  narrow 
rear  passage,  and  into  her  room  before  candle 
flames  revealed  to  the  amazed  company  that  neither 
bolt,  bar,  or  latch  had  been  disturbed,  nor  anything 
in  the  house  taken ! 

Even  while  they  rummaged  in  the  bar-room  till, 
counted  the  forks  and  spoons — pewter  though  they 
were,  Her  Ladyship,  tying  the  luckless  bundle 
about  her  waist  with  a  hastily  cut  bed-cord,  cauti 
ously  opened  the  casement,  crawled  out  on  the 
trellis,  which  unsteadied  a  bit  beneath  her  weight 
but  did  not  break ;  clambered  in  and  out  the  vines 
to  the  edge,  and  then,  lightly,  thanks  to  her  twin's 
training,  swung  herself  to  the  ground  clear,  crept 
across  the  yard,  leaped  the  stone  wall,  with  a  bound 
and  over;  flew  the  width  of  the  meadow;  struck 
the  lane,  up  to  the  high  road;  by  the  moon,  took 
a  southerly  course  which  she  knew  made  for  Ken- 
naston,  and  paused  not  much  for  breath  until  she 
had  left  a  matter  of  five  miles  betwixt  her  and  the 
Queen  and  Artichoke. 

It  was  coming  three  o'clock  by  this,  and,  all  the 
307 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

little  night  winds  hushed,  all  the  earth  and  trees 
and  grasses,  flowers,  shrubs  and  weeds  expectant, 
vihrant  of  the  nearing  dawn,  whose  pink  and  beau 
teous  herald  now  looked  over  the  hill-tops  at  the 
east,  and  put  the  lingering  stars  to  shame,  and 
woke  the  little  birds,  and  bade  every  drop  of  dew 
flash  on  cup  and  blade;  and  all  the  things  that 
breathe  to  grow  and  pulsate;  to  thrill  through  all 
their  veins  with  joy  that  still  another  day  was  born. 

Her  Ladyship  too  was  glad,  for,  brave  as  she 
had  been  through  all  the  brief  ordeal  of  her  man 
hood,  this  last  adventure  had  broken  her  spirit  a 
bit,  and  hunger  and  fatigue  had  sadly  weakened 
her  flesh.  As  the  lark  mounted,  singing  to  the  now 
risen  sun,  she  struck  in  a  bit  from  the  road  and 
began  an  endeavor  to  calculate  how  far  she  might 
be  from  Kennaston  village,  or  from  any  place  fa 
miliar  to  her.  But  it  was  vain  to  speculate.  Peg 
gy,  in  all  her  cross-country  rides,  could  not  place 
the  spot  in  which  she  now  found  herself. 

Food  was  what  she  needed  most  and  she  came 

out  into  the  open,  shading  her  eyes  with  her  hand 

and  looking  everywhere  about  for  a  curl  of  smoke 

that  might  guide  her  to  a  cottage.    But  no  friendly 

308 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

film  greeted  her,  and  her  hand  fell  listless  at  her 
side. 

Hark !  The  tinkle  of  a  bell,  the  soft  lowing  of 
a  cow;  not  far  off  either.  She  ran  a  piece  up  the 
road  and  presently  descried  the  herd  huddling  at 
the  pasture  bars  waiting  for  their  milking,  yet  no 
maid  nor  man  in  sight,  no  milking-stool  nor  pail 
nor  cup,  only  the  soft  inviting  lowing  of  the  kine. 
Her  bundle  still  tied  about  her  waist,  Her  Ladyship 
let  down  the  top  bars,  edged  through,  off  with  her 
once  splendid  but  now  much  tarnished  hat,  set  it 
under  the  nearest  cow,  knelt,  and  presently  had  the 
cock  full  of  as  fine  foaming  milk  as  one  might 
wish  to  see.  She  rose  and  drank  thankfully,  rub 
bing  the  CQW'S  nose  in  gratitude;  then;  amid  the 
concerted  cries  of  the  herd,  she  made  off,  a  little 
refreshed,  still  keeping  her  southerly  course;  still 
haphazarding  her  way,  for  no  house  came  in 
sight. 

After  a  matter  of  a  dozen  miles,  and  now  reach 
ing  the  edge  of  a  woods,  with  the  tower  of  a 
Castle  just  sticking  up  out  of  the  horizon  for  her 
only  beacon,  Peggy  halted  and,  the  refreshment  of 
the  milk  having  been  by  this  exhausted,  the  tears 
309 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

forced  their  way  to  her  eyes  and  even  ploughed  two 
small  furrows  the  length  of  her  cheeks,  cupping 
in  the  dimple  of  her  chin,  and  splashing  at  last, 
on  her  much  rumpled  Mechlin  lace  cravat. 

"Bah!"  cried  she.  "I  weep  only  because  I  am 
hungry.  I  am  not  afraid.  Odzooks!  She  that 
has  had  the  hemp  about  her  neck  to  be  strung  up 
for  a  highwayman  must  not  fear  to  encounter  one 
of  her  own  ilk,"  and  Her  Ladyship  essays  to  laugh 
as  she  plunges  into  the  wood. 

It  proves  a  harmless,  peaceful,  if  somewhat 
devious  neighborhood,  where  an  occasional  rabbit 
scurries  over  the  dry  leaves  of  last  autumn's  fall 
ing,  and  where  a  large  company  of  rooks  are  hold 
ing  a  caucus,  but  'tis  interminable;  and  Peggy's 
legs  are  not  of  steel,  it  seems,  but  of  that  lusty 
flesh  and  blood  and  bone  which,  when  made  to  do 
duty  fasting,  now  these  twenty  hours,  begin  to 
give  out.  Her  head,  too,  spins,  the  knot  of  her 
cravat  seems  to  choke  her  as  she  loosens  it;  the 
weight  of  the  bundle  appears  like  twenty  stone  at 
the  least  about  her  waist,  and  she  cuts  the  bed-cord 
and  lets  it  drop,  just  for  a  few  moments'  ease,  she 
tells  herself,  as,  at  last,  the  other  side  of  the  forest 
310 


GOES      TO       T  0  W  X 

is  gained  and  she  beholds  a  wide  stretch  of  downs 
and  naught  but  the  elusive  tower  of  the  distant 
Castle,  appearing  farther  away  even  than  at  first. 

What  common  can  this  be  ? 

Once  again  she  shades  her  blood-shot  eyes  and 
stares  up  at  the  sky.  In  crossing  the  woods,  she 
must  have  struck  mistakenly  to  the  west.  The 
sun  is  nearing  the  set,  and  Peggy  now  knows  she 
has  come  to  Farnham  Heath  where,  report  has  it, 
some  of  the  boldest  cut-throats  in  the  country  rule 
the  roost. 

Shall  she  start  to  cross  it?  Kennaston  Village 
lies  only  ten  miles  on  t'other  side  of  it.  That  will- 
o'-the-wisp  tower?  that  castle  yonder?  yes  'tis 
home !  and  she  such  a  dullard  as  not  to  have  mis 
trusted  it  before! 

She  will  push  on.  Why  not?  What  has  she. 
forsooth,  to  tempt  any  thief,  unless  he  took  her  for 
ransom. 

Well,  let  him,  since  Percy  de  Bohun  at  this 
very  moment,  in  all  liklihood,  kneels  at  the  feet  of 
Lady  Diana ;  if  highwaymen  want  to  bear  her  off, 
why  should  she  complain?  And  just  then  the 
tinkle  of  the  little  brook  at  the  wayside  beckons  in 
311 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

Her  Ladyship's  ear,  the  Castle  tower  appears  to  be 
dancing  up  and  down  against  the  sky;  the  two 
stark  trees,  yonder  on  the  heath,  are  surely  turning 
somersaults ;  the  bundle  drags  all  forgotten  at  her 
heels,  and  presently  lies  in  the  tall  grasses  which 
she  threaded  on  her  way  to  the  brook.  Her  heac1 
swam,  ten  thousand  blunderbusses  seemed  to  be 
firing  off  inside  of  it;  she  pulled  off  her  wig  and 
threw  it  far  from  her;  she  unbuttoned  her  coat 
and  waistcoat,  and  drew  her  cloak  in  a  twist  about 
her;  she  staggered,  caught  at  an  elder;  it  swayed 
with  her  to  the  water,  as  she  fell  swooning  with  her 
thirsty  lips  just  in  touch  of  the  sparkling  bub 
bles;  her  wan  face  shining  in  the  glint  of  sun 
shine,  the  whole  round  world  and  all  the  men  and 
women  in  it  quite  forgot,  even  her  sword,  un 
buckled  with  the  bed-cord,  now  lay  glinting  its 
jewels  in  the  sedges  half  a  dozen  rods  away. 

A  pair  of  robins  eyed  her  from  the  bushes,  a  bee 
swerved  and  swung  above  her  mouth ;  the  minnows 
darted  next  her  cheek,  but  My  Lady  did  not  wake 
for  any  or  all  of  these.  She  lay  there  motionless 
until  the  sun  had  gone  down  and  all  the  sweet 


312 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

scents  and  drowsy  sounds  and  whirrs  and  flutters 
of  twilight  had  come  up;  until  a  fine  coach  with 
four  horses  and  two  postilions  came  prancing  and 
pawing  at  a  great  rate  of  speed  out  of  the  wood  to 
the  heath.  Until  a  little  weazened  fine  gentleman, 
who  had  dozed  in  his  bed  until  long  past  noon  for 
fear  of  encountering  a  certain  other  gentleman, 
had  risen  leisurely,  dined  with  relish,  set  out  from 
the  Queen  and  Artichoke  only  after  being  assured 
that  the  other  gentleman  had  gone  off  on  a  ruined 
horse  back  to  Garratt  Lane  in  the  hopes  of  obtain 
ing  a  suitable  mount,  which  same  was  not  to  be 
had  short  of  the  ten  mile  return;  until  the  little 
gentleman,  then,  thrusting  his  face  out  of  his 
coach  window  as  the  vehicle  came  to  a  sudden 
standstill,  spoke : 

"Is  this  the  heath  ?"  he  asks  with  blinking  eyes 
and  a  shiver. 

"Yes,  Sir  Eobin,  Farnham  Heath,  Sir !"  answers 
one  of  the  postilions. 

"Your  pleasure,  Sir  Eobin?"  asks  the  second 
man  respectfully,  quieting  his  horses. 

"Well,"  returns  the  little  Baronet,  "if  you  think 


313 


r-e  can  gallop  across  faster  than  those  devils  could 
overtake  us,  P  say,  proceed.  If  not — "  he  glances 
back  over  his  shoulder. 

To  tell  the  truth,  the  gentleman  from  Kent  con 
sidered  himself  as  betwixt  two  very  impending 
fires,  and,  'tis  safe  to  say,  he  dreaded  Sir  Percy  de 
Bohun's  possibility  at  his  back  as  much,  if  not 
more,  than  he  did  the  robbers  in  front  of  him. 

"We're  in  the  best  condition,  Sir,"  returned 
the  man,  "and  fifty  minutes  ought  to  take  us  out 
of  all  chances  of  danger." 

"Unless,"  replies  the  master,  again  casting  an 
apprehensive  eye  to  the  rear,  "they  might  close  in 
on  us  from  behind." 

"No  fear,  Sir,"  cries  the  lackey,  "our  pistols 
are  loaded  and  cocked ;  with  your  own  rapier,  pis 
tols  and  the  blunderbuss,  Sir  Eobin,  we  should — " 

"What's  that?"  exclaims  the  second  man,  eyes 
bulging,  as  with  the  handle  of  his  whip  he  points 
to  the  fallen  figure  by  the  brookside. 

"Zounds !"  cries  the  first,  rising  in  his  seat  to 
peer. 

"  'Sdeath !  Damnation  !"  squeaks  Sir  Eobin, 
pulling  down  the  coach-sash.  "On  with  ye,  you 
314 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

devils !    On,  I  say !"  thumping  impatiently  on  the 
pane  with  his  signet  ring. 

"No  fear,  Sir,  no  fear,  Sir  Robin !"  exclaims  the 
second  man,  jumping  to  the  ground  and  inspecting 
Her  Ladyship.  "It's  only  a  corp." 

"Are  you  sure?"  opening  the  door  cautiously. 
"Sure?" 

"Aye,  Sir  Robin,  a  quality  corp,  Sir.  Mayhap 
shot  down  by  them  vagabones  out  of  the  heath. 
Had  I  best  see  if  there's  any  life  left  in  the  young 
gentleman,  Sir  ?" 

Sir  Robin  descends  from  his  coach,  a  pistol  in 
one  hand,  a  drawn  rapier  in  the  other. 

"Keep  an  eye  on  the  lookout,  James/'  he  whis 
pers  to  the  postilion  who  remains  in  his  seat,  and 
the  Baronet  minces  in  and  out  of  the  tall  grasses, 
shaking  the  dew  daintily  from  his  sprawling  feet, 
until  he  gains  the  spot,  where  his  man  kneels 
above  the  prostrate  form. 

"Ugh !"  says  he,  turning  aside  his  head  in  a 
species  of  disgust,  "I  never  could  abide  the  sight 
of  the  dead." 

'Twas  the  very  first  time  in  his  life  he'd  ever 
had  a  chance  to  behold  such  I 
315 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

"He  ain't  quite  cold  yet,  Sir  Kobin,"  says  the 
postilion.  "There's  a  flicker  to  his  eye-lids,  Sir, 
look!" 

The  Baronet  looks;  out  of  his  hands  tumble 
rapier  and  pistol. 

"  'Slif  e  I"  he  cries,  down  on  his  knees,  feeling  at 
Her  Ladyship's  pulse,  pulling  his  flask  from  his 
pocket  and  trying  vainly  to  pour  the  liquor  between 
the  firmly  shut  lips. 

As  he  tries,  the  little  gentleman's  wits  work 
nimbly,  which  they  could  do  on  occasions,  and,  not 
stopping  even  to  wonder  at  his  discovery,  only  to 
accept  instantly  as  a  fact  that  his  Lady  had  been 
struck  down  while  pursuing  him,  he  is  so  overjoyed 
at  the  beauty,  sentiment,  and  opportuneness  of  the 
adventure,  as  to  be  scarce  able  to  restrain  his  ela 
tion,  even  in  the  face  of  a  serious  swoon. 

"Into  the  coach  at  once,  James,"  he  says,  rais 
ing  Her  Ladyship's  head  himself,  "your  gentlest 
endeavors  and  a  guinea  apiece  to  you,"  nodding  to 
the  other,  as  between  them  they  carry  the  limp 
form  to  the  coach,  "if  you  bring  me  to  Kennaston 
Castle  before  curfew." 

"Never  fear,  Sir  Eobin ;  if  the  young  gentleman 
316 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

only  holds  out  for  a  single  houi,  I  swear,  Sir,  in 
the  teeth  of  all  the  highwaymen  in  the  kingdom, 
we'll  have  you  there." 

"Tut,  tut,"  says  Sir  Robin,  smiling,  no  longer 
restraining  an  expression  of  his  happiness  and 
triumph,  SLS  he  makes  ready  the  rugs  and  cushions 
within  to  receive  the  burden  James,  for  the  mo 
ment,  bears  alone. 

"  'Tis  no  young  gentleman,  you  rogues,  'tis  My 
Lady  Peggy  Burgoyne,  my  bride  that  is  to  be. 
Wait  a  moment,  Thomas,  while  I  spread  this 
shawl;  and  James,  look  you  sharp  behind  us,  for 
there's  a  gentleman  in  pursuit  of  this  Lady  would 
kill  me  on  sight  if  he  can." 


317 


XVIII 

In  the  which  Sir  Percy  steals  a  coach  and 

four  and  the  living  contents  thereof  and 

makes  off  therewith  at  breakneck 

speed  for  life  and  death. 

At  this  very  moment,  two  horsemen,  sorry 
mounted  enough,  especially  the  master,  are  round 
ing  the  turn  of  the  woodland  path  and  about  to 
emerge  upon  the  open  next  the  heath.  He  who 
rides  the  lame  roan  has  his  eyes  bent  upon  the 
ground,  a  thousand  sad  and  conflicting  thoughts 
crowding  his  brain,  as  'tis  impossible  even  to  urge 
his  hurt  steed,  and  a  jog-trot  is  all  that  can  be  got 
out  of  her  ever  again.  Garratt  Lane  had  sent  him 
away  only  with  his  own  again. 

"Sir  Percy,  with  submission,  Sir,"  exclaims 
318 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

Grigson,  "this  be  Farnham  Heath,  Sir,  and,  'pon 
my  life,  Sir !"  jumping  from  his  saddle  and  dart 
ing  to  the  grassy  side  of  the  way,  "a  rapier,  Sir 
Percy!"  picking  it  up  and  dragging  with  it  the 
straggling  bed-cord  and  its  appending  bundle. 

Percy  leaped  to  the  ground  and  seized  the 
weapon. 

"Grigson!"  cried  he,  "there's  been  foul  work 
hereabouts.  This  is  the  sword  of  a  gentleman  I 
know,  or  my  name's  not  Percy  de  Bohun !  He  is 
a  scurvy  fellow,  and  my  enemy,  but  if  he  has  fallen 
among  thieves,  by  the  heaven  above  us !  I'll  rescue 
him,  even  if  'tis  to  punish  him  later  according  to 
my  own  will.  Take  the  rapier." 

As  he  hands  it  back  to  his  man,  the  bed-cord 
from  the  Queen  and  Artichoke,  being  a  full  cen 
tury  old,  gives  entirely  away  and  My  Lady  Peggy's 
duds,  long  tail  of  dark  hair,  pins,  needles,  what 
ever  else  beside,  fall,  scatter,  topsy-turvy  to  the 
ground,  and  at  the  very  same  moment  Percy  sees 
before  him,  as  in  a  nest  among  the  sedges  and  ferns 
of  the  marshy  brookland,  the  wig  that  Her  Lady 
ship  had  flung  off,  and  a  scrap  of  tumbled  paper 
addressed  to  himself,  flapping,  spiked  on  a  thistle- 
319 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

top,  near  it !  Thunderstruck,  he  is  about  to  read 
it,  when  Grigson,  who  has  gone  on  afoot  a  few 
steps,  starts  back,  and,  reckless  of  all  things, 
seizes  his  master's  arm  and  drags  him  to  the  turn 
of  the  road. 

"Sir  Percy !  Hist !  For  the  love  of  God,  Sir, 
look!" 

Thrusting  the  bit  of  paper  into  his  waistcoat, 
Percy  gasps  and  gazes.  He  beholds  Sir  Eobin  and 
his  man  lifting  a  limp  and  slender  form,  ill-de 
fined,  'tis  true,  in  its  swathe  of  camlet  cloak,  into 
the  coach ;  he  beholds  a  head  of  dark  short  hair,  a 
face  of  ashen  pallor,  and,  in  two  seconds  more, 
before  he  can  rush  back  and  leap  into  his  saddle, 
motioning  Grigson  to  do  the  same,  the  coach  con 
taining  Sir  Robin  and  his  prize  is  dashing  as  fast 
as  whip,  spur,  sixteen  thoroughbred  legs,  and  a 
backing-up  of  wholesome  terror  can  urge  it,  over 
the  bleak  and  gruesome  waste  of  Farnham  Heath ! 

"'Slife!  Grigson,  man,"  cries  Percy,  digging 
steel  into  the  poor  roan's  flanks  till  they  spurt 
blood  in  a  stream.  "We  must  overtake  'em,  un 
horse  'em,  spill  out  the  wretch  inside;  I'll  into  the 


320 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

coach  then  to  protect  the  lady,  you  mount  the 
leader  and  gallop  us  over  the  heath  for  your  life !" 

"Trust  me,  Sir  Percy/'  answers  Grigson  from  a 
length  behind  his  master.  "God  grant,  Sir,  that 
the  roan  drop  not  out  of  the  race  and  leave  us  but 
one  saddle  betwixt  you  and  me,  Sir." 

"Poor  beast,"  says  Percy,  pricking  her  hard  and 
striking  her  shoulder  with  the  flat  of  his  rapier. 
"She'll  die,  and  in  a  good  cause  if  she  gain  me  the 
goal." 

And  all  the  while  they're  speaking,  flash  and 
crack  go  the  whips  of  Sir  Robin's  postilions,  and 
Sir  Robin's  splendid  beasts  cover  the  ground  with 
a  swing  and  a  will  that  keeps  the  coach  rocking, 
but  yet  awakens  not  Lady  Peggy,  whose  dark 
cropped  head  reposes  on  the  crooked  shoulder  of 
Sir  Robin,  while  her  white  eyelids  remain  sealed 
and  no  quiver  of  returning  consciousness  thrills 
about  her  drawn  and  bloodless  lips. 

"Gad !"  exclaims  Percy,  as  he  beholds  the  vehicle 
swinging  and  spinning  farther  and  farther  from 
him,  and  as  Grigson's  black  now  is  up  nose  and 
nose  with  his  own  expiring  mare.  "Gad,  girl," 
bending  his  lips  to  the  roan's  laid-back  ear,  "go 
321 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

on !  help  me  to  save  her !  to  reach  her ;  go  on,  I  say, 
in  God's  name !" 

As  if  the  faithful  creature  comprehended  her 
master's  entreaty,  with  that  not  uncommon  last 
flash  of  superhuman  strength  that  inheres  in  man 
and  beast  alike,  the  roan  raised  her  fine  head  in 
the  air,  pricked  her  ears,  stretched  out  her  neck, 
gathered  herself  up  with  a  twitch  of  her  nerves 
that  thrilled  to  her  rider's  heart,  and  off !  as  in  her 
best  days,  when  she  could  distance  the  fleetest 
mount  in  the  county ;  off,  with  the  whirl  and  whirr 
of  those  coach-wheels  beckoning  to  her;  off,  with 
that  pair  of  straining  eyes,  those  parted  lips,  bless 
ing  her  as  she  began  to  gain  on  Sir  Robin, — began 
to  ?  nay,  'twas  all  a  matter  of  beginning  and  end 
ing  in  a  breath.  Before  the  postilions,  amid 
their  own  clatter  and  calling,  had  caught  hint  of 
the  pursuit,  the  roan  was  up  with  the  windows  out 
of  which  the  apprehensive  little  Baronet  was  peer 
ing  ;  his  scream  of  terror : 

"Highwaymen !  Faster !  On !  lads,  on !  A  hun 
dred  pounds  if  we  outrun  'em!  On!"  was  their 
first  advertisement  of  danger. 

But  while  the  two  were  drawing  their  hangers 
322 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

from  their  belts,  Sir  Percy,  with  a  swerving  dash, 
pulled  the  roan  on  her  hind  legs  directly  in  front 
of  the  galloping  leaders.  'Twas  but  an  interpo 
sition  of  Providence  (coupled  with  very  excellent 
cool-headed  horsemanship)  that  he  was  not  then 
and  there  dispatched  into  the  hereafter. 

The  leaders  plunged,  grinding  the  wheelers  with 
their  hind  hoofs ;  the  wheelers  fell  back  of  a  heap, 
smashing  in  the  fine  front  glass  and  cutting  Sir 
Robin  across  the  lip,  but  not  so  much  as  waking 
his  burden  from  her  deathlike  sleep. 

"Down  with  ye!"  cries  Sir  Percy,  a  pistol  in 
each  hand,  as  Grigson  rides  up  with  another 
brace  to  reinforce  his  master,  putting  a  hand  as 
well  to  the  quieting  of  the  coach  horses. 

"Aye,  aye,  Sir !  but  spare  our  lives  and  we'll  do 
your  bidding!"  cry  Sir  Eobin's  lackeys,  leaping 
to  the  ground. 

"We've  not  a  groat  betwixt  us,  Your  Honor,  on 
our  life!" 

"I  want  no  groats  nor  guineas  either!"  says 
Percy,  now  leaving  his  man  to  cover  the  steeds  and 
the  postilions,  while  he  jumps  off  the  roan's  back 
and  springs  to  the  side  of  the  coach. 
323 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

To  wrest  the  door  from  the  feeble  clutch  of  the 
shrieking  little  gentleman  from  Kent ;  to  open  it ; 
seize  him,  stopping  his  frantic  and  craven  cries 
with  a  thrust  of  a  pocket  napkin  in  his  mouth ;  to 
haul  him  out  and  send  him  spinning  over  the  turf 
with  his  gold  and  silver  scattering  from  purse  aad 
pockets,  is,  with  Sir  Percy,  the  work  of  a  very  few 
seconds. 

"Mercy!  Mercy!  Mr.  Highwayman!"  whimpers 
the  Baronet,  cringing  on  his  knees,  as  Grigson  lifts 
himself  up  on  the  off  leader's  back  and  Percy 
props  the  swooning  figure  within  the  coach. 

"  'Slife,  Sir,  whoever  you  are !  Eaise  your  eyes ! 
I  am  Sir  Percy  de  Bohun,  at  your  service  any  time 
three  hours  hence." 

Sir  Kobin  glances  up,  his  crooked  little  legs  now 
bowing  more  into  an  arc  than  before,  as  he  hears 
the  dread  name  of  his  rival. 

Clapping  hand  to  hilt,  however,  he  stands  up. 

"Sir,"  says  he,  pushed  into  a  valiance  he  has  no 
smallest  sympathy  with,  solely  from  fear  that  Lady 
Peggy  may  have  open  ears  by  this  time.  "Sir,  that 
Lady  is  my  affianced.  I  command  you,  quit  her 
and  leave  us  to  pursue  our  journey  in  peace. 
324 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

D'ye  hear,  Sir?"  Sir  Robin  brandishes  his 
weapon,  now  reinforced  by  the  approach  of  his 
servants.  "I'll  stick  you  where  you  stand,  Sir!" 
shouts  McTart,  prancing  a  bit  nearer  and  actually 
touching  Percy's  shoulder  with  the  point  of  his 
weapon, — be  it  remembered  de  Bohun's  back  was 
toward  him  as  he  leaned  into  the  coach  arranging 
the  cushions. 

"Will  you!"  says  Sir  Percy,  coolly  turning  and 
seizing  the  little  man's  blade  and  administering 
therewith  to  its  owner  a  smart  box  on  his  out- 
flapping  ears.  "Had  I  time  to  waste,"  adds  Percy, 
now  jumping  into  the  coach,  "I'd  leave  your  car 
cass  here.  Put  up  your  pistol,  Sir,"  says  he,  aim 
ing  his  own  straight  at  Sir  Robin's  now  un-wigged 
pate,  "or,  damn  you !  you'll  be  cold  inside  a  second. 
On  with  you,  Grigson,"  calls  master  to  man.  "Life 
and  death  are  in  this  matter.  If  the  four  beasts, 
and  you,  too,  drop  at  the  finish,  get  us  to  Ken- 
naston  faster  than  the  wind  travels." 

Even  while  he  speaks,  he  watches  the  still  white 

face  so  near  him  with  his  finger  on  his  trigger,  Sir 

Robin  discreetly  backing  away  and  rending  the  air 

with  noisy  and  impotent  curses;  then  a  plunge,  a 

325 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

long,  resounding  call  from  Grigson;  the  two 
lackeys  agog  at  finding  themselves  alive,  Sir 
Kobin's  coach  starts  on  as  if  the  very  devil  himself 
were  in  its  wake. 

Percy  does  not  draw  Peggy  to  him ;  he  lays  her 
back  among  the  pillows;  he  bathes  her  head  and 
lips  and  hands  with  liquor  from  his  flask ;  he  holds 
the  slender  fingers  in  his  palm,  as,  amid  awful 
terror  lest  his  Lady  die,  he  is  racked  with  con 
sternation  and  wonder  at  the  present  outcome,  and 
in  his  distraught  mind  endeavors  to  patch  and 
piece  out  the  strange  network  of  the  mystery  now 
beginning  to  solve  itself  before  his  eyes. 

As  he  prays  God  to  spare  her,  if  not  for  him,  for 
some  better  man,  a  shrill,  weird  sound  smites  his 
ear. 

Percy  throws  back  his  head  and  listens ;  'tis  the 
long  roan  neighing  for  the  last  time  back  on  Farn- 
ham  Heath,  where  Sir  Eobin,  picking  up  his 
money,  dejectedly  shivering  like  an  aspen  (since 
he  would  rake  hell  with  a  nail  to  secure  a  ha'penny, 
and  fairly  weeps  at  the  six-pences  he  can't  recover), 
presently  and  ruefully,  one  of  his  men  behind 
him,  pillion  fashion,  t'other  running  at  his  side, 
326 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

turns  back  to  Tooting  on  top  of  Grigson's  black, 
his  fox  teeth  chattering  in  his  wide  mouth  as  he 
congratulates  himself  on  his  second  and  miracu 
lous  escape  from  the  famous  Sir  Percy  de  Bohun. 

'Twas,  in  sooth,  for  this  latter  a  bitterly  sad 
hour  which  was  spent  in  covering  the  distance  be 
tween  the  heath  and  the  Castle.  Eevived  a  bit, 
no  doubt  by  the  fumes  of  the  liquor,  Her  Lady 
ship's  lids  quivered,  contracted,  and  finally  opened, 
but  it  was  with  a  distraught  and  unrecognizing 
stare  that  she  surveyed  her  companion. 

"  'S  death !"  cries  she  aloud,  her  feeble  right 
hand  seeking  her  sword-side,  "I  tell  ye,  Chock, 
your  mistress  is  now  full-fledged  a  man!  Hist, 
girl,  an  you  love  me,  keep  it  close.  Sir  Percy's 
wed  to  Lady  Diana !  Aye !"  Peggy  laughs  with 
such  a  heart-break  in  her  voice  and  such  tears  in 
her  winkers  as  causes  Percy  a  pang  of  crudest 
misery. 

"Tut,  tut,  Chock !  What's  his  marriage  to  me  ? 
Fetch  the  pack,  Mr.  Brummell ;  aye,  I'm  at  your 
service,  loo,  crimp,  or  whist!  I,  Sir  Robin  Mc- 
Tart,  '11  lay  you  a  thousand  to  nothing !  Zounds  J 
Sir,  fetch  coffee  to  stain  my  face  with  \  and  where, 
327 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

oh,  where's  my  precious  bundle  with  my  woman's 
duds  in't,  my  patch-box  that  I  burned,  and  the 
long  tail  of  my  hair  I  cut  off  when  you,  Chock, 
bought  me  the  counterfeit  of  Sir  Robin's  own  wig 
at  the  perruquier's  in  Lark  Lane.  Aye!  So! — 
No  I  No !  ISTo !"  and  now  a  shiver  and  a  lower  tone, 
as  Lady  Peggy,  with  her  wide  wild  eyes,  shrank 
back  in  the  far  corner  of  the  jolting  coach. 

"My  Lady  Mother, — I  command  you,  Chock,  tell 
her  not  of  my  escapades;  and  when  Percy  comes 
home  with  his  bride,  swear  him,  as  will  I,  I  was  off 
pleasuring  in  Kent  at  my  godmother's.  Mother! 
Mother !"  cries  she,  piteously  now,  as  Percy's  arms 
enfold  her,  and  a  thousand  fond  words  jostle  each 
other  on  his  lips. 

Then  she  sinks  into  the  stupor  again,  and  re 
mains  so  until  the  great  coach  rolls  through  the 
park  and  up  to  the  entrance  of  her  home;  until 
Percy,  with  few  words,  lays  her  in  the  stout  arms 
of  the  faithful  Chockey  and  sees  her  mother  bend 
ing  above  her;  her  father  distract  in  his  night-rail 
and  cap;  cook  wailing,  being  from  Kerry  and 
prompt  at  any  sort  of  hubbub;  Bickers'  toothless 
mouth  agape  with  groans;  sees  his  Lady  carried 
328 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

up,  limp,  little  hands  down-hanging,  to  her  cham 
ber  out  of  his  sight. 

Sir  Percy  leaves  Peggy's  bundle,  which  he  had 
gathered  up  as  best  he  could  and  slung  about  his 
shoulders,  on  the  table  in  the  hall.  The  little 
scrap  of  paper  he  carries  away  with  him  and  reads 
•when  he  reaches  home  that  night;  'tis  Her  Lady 
ship's  note  to  him,  written  on  the  fly-leaf  of  the 
prayer-book  of  the  young  Curate  of  Brook-Arms- 
leigh  Village.  As  he  scans  it,  presses  it  to  his 
lips,  sits  until  dawn,  remembering  many  things 
since  he  parted  from  his  Lady  long  ago  in  the 
parlor  at  Kennaston,  the  most  of  the  mystery  is 
unraveled  by  light  of  the  scrawl ;  and  the  delirium 
of  his  joy  at  knowing  himself  to  have  been  in  her 
heart  almost  equals  the  mad  anxiety  that  con 
sumes  him  now  as  to  her  life  and  well-being. 


329 


XIX 

Which  sets  forth  how  My  Lady  Peggy  recov 
ers  of  her  illness — gets  once  more  into 
hoops    and    petticoats — and    puts 
a  very  fine  and  noble  young 
gentleman     into     an 
earthly  paradise. 

Until  midsummer  he  rides  over  to  Kennaston 
twice  each  day,  morning  and  night,  to  find  out  how 
it  fares  with  her,  and  'twas  not  until  then  that  the 
Earl  gave  him  hopes  he  might  see  her,  perhaps 
within  the  se'ennight. 

Notes  there  had  been,  daily,  as  soon  as  Chockey 

had  let  him  know  that  her  mistress  was  in  her 

head  once  more,  and  the  two  surgeons,  down  from 

London,  had  pronounced  Her  Ladyship  on  the 

330 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

mend ;  notes,  and  flowers  and  fruits,  and  game  and 
fish  to  tempt  her  appetite ;  a  little  dog  from  Pom- 
erania;  a  Persian  boy  to  wait  upon  her  whims;  a 
mare,  as  white  as  milk;  sweetmeats  from  the  In 
dies  ;  damasks  from  China  and  France ;  shells  and 
curious  beadwork  slippers  from  the  American  Col 
onies — whither,  it  is  needless  to  say,  a  certain  good 
ship  had  sailed,  leaving  a  certain  young  gentle 
man  behind — all  these  things,  and  many  more  be 
sides,  were  offered  up  at  Her  Ladyship's  shrine,  but 
never  yet  had  she  been  able  to  bring  herself  to 
scribble  one  line  to  her  suitor,  or  to  send  any  mes 
sage,  save  polite  civilities  by  Chockey. 

'Twas  only  after  the  buxom  damsel  (having  the 
night  previous  heard  from  Grigson  that  his  master 
was  like  to  die  of  suspense,  and  having  imparted 
the  same  to  Her  Ladyship),  together  with  the 
Lady  Mother  and  the  Earl,  had  argued  and 
preached  into  her  the  great  and  chivalrous  devotion 
of  Sir  Percy,  that  Peggy  at  last  had  brought  her 
mind  into  a  condition  of  acquiescing  in  his  coming 
up  to  her  morning-room  on  the  Thursday  (being 
St.  James's  Day)  after  the  sixth  Sunday  after 
Trinity;  which  same  she  carefully  marked  in  her 
331 


MY      LADY,    PEGGY 

prayer-book  with  a  dab  of  the  crimson  her  mother 
sent,  in  to  beautify  her  pale  cheeks  with,  against 
Sir  Percy's  advent. 

"Oh,  slitterkins!  Madam,"  cries  the  Abigail 
under  her  breath,  "and  asking  Your  Ladyship's 
pardon,  but  how  can  I  do  up  Your  Ladyship's  hair 
an'  it  no  longer  than  the  peltry  of  a  meadow- 
mouse  !" 

"True  enough,  Jane  Chockey,"  replies  her  mis 
tress,  contemplating  her  countenance  in  the  mirror. 
"Of  a  fact,  I  resemble  nothing  so  much  as  one  of 
those  weazen  little  vermin;  my  nose  is  sharp,  too, 
and  my  cheeks — " 

"Stay,  My  Lady,"  says  Chock,  taking  up  the 
rouge,  and  putting  on  layer  after  layer.  "Who'll 
say  Your  Ladyship  ain't  handsome  now?  Lawk, 
Madam !  You  look  like  an  angel !  What  a  bless 
ing  of  Providence  the  French  is  with  their  nos 
trums  !" 

Peggy  regards  herself. 

"Now,  My  Lady,"  cries  Chockey,  "would  you 
but  borrow  your  Lady  Mother's  worked  head,  a 
cup  of  powder,  and  Her  Ladyship's  pink  feathers 


332 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

atop  of  it!  What  a  sight  would  you  be  for  Sir 
Percy  to  behold !" 

Peggy  shakes  her  head.  The  three  feet  of  wire, 
wool,  pommade,  frizz  and  plumage  the  hand 
maiden  suggests,  even  causes  her  to  laugh  aloud  as 
she  figures  it  above  her  own  face. 

"Nay,  Chock,  none  o'  that !"  says  she,  'Til  do  as 
I  am.  Sir  Percy  has  seen  my  cropped  head ;  faith, 
he  'twas,  you  tell  me,  that  fetched  the  tail  of  my 
locks  to  Kennaston  in  his  saddle-pocket,  or  tied 
upon  him  somewhere?" 

"Aye,  My  Lady,  Mr.  Grigson  says  never,  since 
Adam  and  Eve  began  courtin*  under  the  fig-tree, 
has  any  young  nobleman  been  seen  in  such  a  frenzy 
as  Sir  Percy  about  Your  Ladyship.  Lawk,  Lady 
Peggy!  When  a  young  gentleman  goes  off  his 
feed,  ceases  swearin'  and  cursin'  his  man,  and  stops 
down  in  the  country  nigh  three  months  in  the 
season,  a-readin'  loud  to  his  deaf  aunt,  there  ain't 
no  sort  of  doubt  as  to  the  quality  of  his  passion !" 

Her  Ladyship  smiles  as  she  spreads  her  train 
and  glances  at  it  over  her  shoulder. 

"Chock,"  says  she,  "look  you,  now,  while  I  cross 


333 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

the  room;  does  the  paduasoy  stand  out  well  over 
my  hoop  ?" 

"Like  the  dish-clout,  My  Lady,  when  I  spreads 
it  to  dry  over  one  of  the  biggest  hen-coops.  'Tis 
monstrous  fine,  finer,  I  should  swear,  than  any 
thing  Lady  Diana  could  have!"  Chockey  sighs, 
lost  in  admiration.  "Though  belike  Lord  Ken- 
naston  wouldn't  think  so." 

"And,  Chock,  look  again."  Her  Ladyship 
crosses  back  to  the  divan.  "'Tis  thus  the  town 
ladies  give  the  true  quality  sweep  to  their  trains. 
Give  me  the  trinket  Sir  Percy  sent  me  last  night." 
Peggy  takes  a  fan  of  most  beautiful  feathers  from 
a  mother-of-pearl  box  and  waves  it  back  and  forth. 
"  'Tis  so,  Chock,  the  London  fine  ladies  flutter  the 
fan,  as  'tis  called,  and  every  wriggle  hath  a  differ 
ent  meaning !" 

"Oh !"  Chockey  is  well-nigh  speechless  as  she 
watches  her  mistress  sidling,  bridling,  agitating 
the  fan  back,  forth,  hither,  and  yon.  "Madam, 
'tis  amazin'  grand!  A  glass  of  port  now,  My 
Lady,  as  by  the  orders  of  the  surgeons  ?" 

"Nay,"  says  Peggy,  "I  ain't  in  need  of  such." 

"A  mug  of  ale  ?  cider  ?  milk  ?" 
334 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

'Til  none  of  'em,  Chock,"  returns  Her  Lady 
ship,  seating  herself  on  the  divan,  and  spreading 
out  the  paduasoy  as  'twere  a  tail  and  she  the  pea 
cock  owning  it. 

"Set  my  etui  beside  me  on  the  stand ;  place  that 
large  chair  far  off  yonder  by  the  window  for  Sir 
Percy,  that  he  may  not  disturb  my  furbelows, 
and—" 

"Hark,  Madam!    Hoofs!" 

"Lud!"  cries  Her  Ladyship,  "his  new  horse's 
hoofs !  I've  learned  the  ring  of  'em  as  well  as  I 
once  knew  that  of  the  poor  long  roan."  Peggy 
sighs;  she  has  heard  much  during  her  convales 
cence  by  way  of  Mr.  Grigson  and  the  Abigail. 

"Go  you  down,  Chock,  and,  after  a  suitable 
period  of  waiting, — I  mean  such  decent  few  min 
utes,"  cries  she  after  the  girl,  "as  may  be  occupied 
in  dutiful  greetings  to  Dad  and  Her  Ladyship,  you 
may  send  Sir  Percy  up  to  see  me." 

She  hears  his  voice  in  the  hall  greeting  her 
father  and  mother ;  she  glances  over  at  the  mirror, 
and,  snatching  her  pocket-napkin  from  her  bag, 
Peggy  tips  it  to  the  top  of  the  essence-bottle  and 
rubs  the  red  from  her  cheeks;  she  flings  the  fan 
335 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

down,  draws  in  her  splendid  train  to  a  crumpled 
heap  about  her,  gives  the  hoop  as  smart  a  thrust  aa 
her  feeble  strength  will  permit,  hears  a  footstep, 
and  promptly  buries  her  shamed  face  in  the  cush 
ions  of  the  divan. 

She  does  not  answer  the  light  rap  on  the  half- 
open  door,  nor  does  her  lover  wait ;  he  enters,  and 
in  a  second,  kneeling  at  her  feet,  his  two  arms 
about  her,  he  raises  her  sweet  face  and  lays  his 
yearning  lips  on  Her  Ladyship's  own  beautiful 
mouth. 

"Ah,  Peggy,  my  adored  one,"  says  he,  devouring 
her  pale  face  with  his  happy  eyes,  stroking  her 
cropped  head  with  caressing  fingers. 

"Oh,  Percy  I"  says  she,  with  real  roses  blooming 
in  her  cheeks. 

"I  know  a  deal,"  whispers  he,  "but  one  thing  I 
must  ask.  You'll  tell  me  at  once,  will  you  ?" 

"What  is't  ?"  says  she,  smiling,  as  she  leaves  her 
two  hands  in  the  hold  of  one  of  his. 

"Why  did  you  adventure  so  much  ?  for  what,  for 
whom,  whose  sake?  Wherefore?"  The  young 
man's  voice  is  feverish  with  anxiety. 

She  hangs  her  head;  raises  it  proudly;  wishes 
336 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

she  ha<!  him  at  a  distance,  and  so,  leave  to  swing 
her  train  and  use  her  fan  indifferent. 

"My  beloved,"  cries  he,  "answer  me !  'Tis  your 
own  Percy,  him  that  worships  the  ground  you  tread 
upon;  who  has  never  had  a  thought  apart  from 
you;  to  whom  every  other  lady  on  God's  earth's 
but  a  puppet — that  asks — eh,  Peg,  for  whom, 
who  ?"  coaxes  he  with  eyes,  lips,  hands,  heart-beats. 

"For  your  sake,  Sir,  and  none  other,"  she  an 
swers.  "'Twas  because  I  knew  I'd  done  wrong 
and  sent  you  from  me  careless;  I  would  not  give 
in;  but,  you  up  in  town,  Ken  writin'  me  as  he 
did — I  could  abide  it  no  longer — and  I  went." 

"Now  the  God  above  us,  bless  you,"  says  he, 
taking  her  in  his.  arms,  and  at  the  same  instant 
pulling  from  his  waistcoat  pocket  the  scrap  of  a 
note  she'd  written  him  in  the  eye  of  the  scaffold. 

"Peg,  Peg!  I'm  not  worthy  to  mate  with  you, 
and  when  I  learned  of  all  your  hairbreadth  'scapes, 
your  twice  saving  of  my  life — when  I  read  this, 
'slife !  My  Lady,  what's  a  man  like  me  to  such  as 
you!" 

"I'll  tell  you,"  says  she,  laying  her  head  on  his 
shoulder,  "he's  the  man  she  lovee." 
337 


MY      LADY      PEGGY 

"Will  you  marry  me  in  a  fortnight,  Peggy?" 
asks  he,  rapturous. 

"Nay!"  answers  she,  laughing.  "I've  another 
suitor  to  consider,  Sir." 

"And  who  is  he?" 

"Sir  Robin  McTart !  He  was  over  yesterday  to 
ask  my  hand  from  Daddy." 

"The  devil!" 

"Nay,  Sir,  not  enough  courage  for  that !" 

"Peggy,  sweetlips,  will  you  be  mine  the  Tues 
day  after  Transfiguration  ?" 

"Lud !     No,  Sir  Percy !  that  will  I  not !" 

"When  will  you,  then,  love  ?" 

"Next  Christmas." 

"Split  it,"  cries  he,  imploringly,  "make  it  the 
first  quarter  of  the  October  moon?" 

"Well,"  she  answers,  looking  up  to  where  her 
father  and  mother  stand  in  the  doorway,  "an 
Daddy  and  my  Lady  Mother  consent,  you  shall 
have  your  way,  Sir." 

The  young  man  glances  up,  following  Peggy's 
eyes,  springs  to  his  feet,  raises  her  from  the  old 
divan  and  leads  her  before  them. 

"My  Lord  and  Your  Ladyship,"  says  he,  "will 
338 


GOES      TO      TOWN 

you  consent,  as  Peggy  has,  to  our  being  made  man 
and  wife  on  October  the  fifth?  and  will  you  give 
My  Lady  and  my  unworthy  self  your  blessing?" 

They  kneel  down  and  the  Earl  puts  out  his 
hands  above  their  heads;  the  words  stumble,  for 
there  are  drops  in  his  old  eyes,  as  he  looks  and 
beholds  about  their  faces  that  most  splendid  of  all 
aureoles,  the  light  of  love  and  faith,  honor  with 
youth,  and  hope  and  wholesome  minds  to  guide. 


SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 
405  Hilgard  Avenue,  Los  Angeles,  CA  90024-1388 
Return  this  material  to  the  library 
from  which  it  was  borrowed. 


V  . 


OCT  3  1  1994 


DOE  2  WKS  FROM  Mi 


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EIVED 


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UC  SOUTHERN  RE 


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